24 Oceans, 24 Skys
by Quite Silent
Summary: Booth is disturbed by a new reason to protect his partner. Chapter Seventeen is here ITS THE FINAL CHAPTER! Rating change for violence and language.
1. Sheepish Lettering

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, though I did create these events. These characters belong to Fox, Josephson entertainment and Far Field Productions.

Dusty and calm, the orbs settled upon the dark brown of the cylinders, they were almost the color of snow clouds, a hint of blue flitting into them here or there. He watched them instead of what he was being shown, his brown eyes captivated by the grey of her own. Looking up at him now she caught his gaze. "Booth? Are you paying any attention?" She looked at him quizzically, frustration rising in her cheeks as her slim hand dropped to her lap. Seeing this he flashed her an aggravated grin that looked more like a grimace than he had intended. "I told you Bones, I leave that kind of stuff up to you." Sighing she let her gaze fall from him and back to the femur that's at before her.

"Then why are you here Booth?" with a blink her eyes fluttered to his again.

"Because you needed some company." This time the smile was genuine but mocking. Taking a quick glance at her watch she noted the time and stood.

"I don't need your company Booth." As she walked from the lab he followed on her heals, scooting past trays and examination tables.

"Oh come one Bones, you know you like it when I visit."

"Only when you smell like decay." She glanced back at him, a wry smile creeping over her face as amusement shown cunningly in the blue of her eyes.

"Does my after shave really smell that bad?" he joked as they finally made it into her office. Shutting the door behind them Seeley attempted to put on his best "Big Bad Cop-Man" face and waited for her to sit.

"I think your in danger." Hs mouth formed a thin, strict line as the words made their way across the room to her.

"I've been in danger before." She said with a sight nod. Stepping away from the door he awkwardly walked to her desk, removing a thick, bent piece of computer paper. Handing it to her he waited once again. "It's a copy of the original."

She scanned the page slowly, the movement of her eyes across the words becoming more and more mechanical with each line. His eyes caught the subtle reaction in her features. Setting the page down she looked up at him with a forced independence and confidence. She was trying to look tough.

"You're taking it well."

She raised her eyebrows to him. "Do you think it's a real threat?" She took a final look at the paper the held it out to him.

"I'm not sure Bones." _I hope its not, I don't want to lose you._

Leaving the room he stuffed a note greatly detailing the upcoming death of his partner, the words written she had seen being black, the original words being in sheep's blood.

_**I Hope to God its not.**_

A/N: Im sorry its short. This is my first Bones Fiction so please, tell me what you think!


	2. Hows about a pint?

Disclaimer: Not Mine. I do not claim to own any of these characters; their owners are Fox, Joshepson entertainment and Far Field productions.

Small and silent, but extremely audible to his trained ears, it drifted down the hall and bounced off of the drums deep inside his skull. Sitting up in the dark the couch beneath him let out an involuntary, springy squawk. Reaching to his side he found his gun, unloaded, bullets lying next to him on the small end table. Reaching slowly over his head he retrieved the ammunition and loaded the gun under the seat cushion, silencing it. No lights in the apartment were on leaving him blind in the huge room that made up the kitchen and living room. Hearing the small sound again he followed the wall silently to the kitchen. Taking one assuring glance towards Brennan's room, he saw the lights on. _Probably writing _he thought for a split second then focused his attention on the intruder in her home. From the weight of the sound and flow of movement the man had to be very light, either that or he could tap dance his way through sheet metal with out making a sound. Lifting his gun and finding the light switch he flicked the room into light, a loud scream and wet thud sounding. Lying on the floor was a half empty pint of Ben and Jerry's Mint Chocolate Chip, a glop of it lying near a set of bare feet that he followed up to a pair of black pajama shorts and t-shirt then to an extremely surprised looking Brennan, green smeared spoon held tightly in her right hand, both of them raised to just the right level to hit her attacker in the jaw.

"Bones." He looked away from her angry and at the wall then to the floor and back up to her again, his weapon dropping from its held position to his side. Looking at him, the surprise subsiding, she offered the spoon to him. "Ice cream Booth?" her cheeks ignited and she began to laugh, her left hand moving to cover her mouth. He couldn't help but chuckle too at the ridiculousness. He had decided that afternoon, with out her consent, that he would become her watchdog, not leaving her side until the threat was proven false. Leaning down and retracting a small wash cloth from the cabinets under her sink she knelt on the hard floor and began to wipe up the mess. He watched her, his eyes tracing every curve and bend of her body. She was gorgeous, even after staying up till 2:00 in the morning, her auburn and brown hair wavy and frumpled. Kneeling down to help her he placed his hand on hers and imagined he felt a spark. The crystal of her grey blue eyes sprang to his deep brown. Drifting towards each other they caught themselves in a kiss, their eyes closing, soft lips touching soft lips in the exchange. Brennan was the first to pull back, blushing and immediately looking at the ground. "Uhmm."

"Ill get the mess Bones, go back to bed." He was all business again, taking the washcloth from her grip without any physical contact. She looked at him once more and stood, nodding, and walked back to her room. He looked after her only after the door had closed behind her. Had that really just happened? He had more respect for her as a partner than that. _Stupid, Seeley, real stupid. _He thought as he cleaned up the rest of the green ice-cream, throwing away the pint and standing again. Shutting off the light he remembered how it had felt. It hadn't been bad, but he hadn't exactly planned it, the whole move being spontaneous. How she had responded hadn't been too bad either.

She sat in her room, laptop resting on her thighs, though her eyes didn't catch a single word on the windows page that occupied the screen. Her lips still tingled from the exchange, an interesting mixture of emotions brought about in her system now. She had enjoyed the kiss, how ever unexpected, but hadn't necessarily thought of Booth in that way, not consciously anyway, but it had seemed as though she couldnt have helped but to kiss back, his lips warm and safe.

Sure, she had thought about kissing him before, but what woman hadn't thought about kissing a male coworker or friend? Shutting the laptop she clicked the light off and lay down, her cheek meeting the gentle fabric of her pillow just as the crash sounded.

A/N: Thank you for your reviews I appreciate them a great deal!


	3. Your feet are bleeding onto my lips

Disclaimer: Fox, Josephson Entertainment and Far Field Productions own these characters; I myself have come up with this plot.

Dancing, its streamers bright and growing, the light spread over the walls, sending shadows flitting up and down the room, the orange and yellow tongues spitting out bright sparks. Jumping to her feet, Temperance moved quickly away from burning object just as the flam began to crawl up the window's curtains. Booth flew through the door in time to watch Brennan pull the heavy curtains down, putting all of her strength into ripping from the metal rings that held it to its wall mount, all the while bits of broken glass biting into the skin of her bare feet. Watching as she threw the blazing curtains on top of the fire starter he saw the flames lick her left wrist but she didn't seem to notice. Taking into his hands the first bit of fabric he could find he moved past her and to the fire, throwing the brown fabric over the fire, cutting off its oxygen supply and stomping on it, his foot connecting with something hard. Smoke filled the room and exited the broken window in thick wasps. Lost in thought Bones jerked and rushed to the window, looking out and seeing nothing but a few shards of glass lying on the ground below. Booth looked to the ground, his eyes following the splotches of blood her feet left on the floor.

"You're hurt."

"Bastard got away." She stared out of the window still, the smoke gently distorting her features and curling around her face to come to rest in the cool night air outside. The fire alarms in her apartment chose this moment to begin blaring. Covering her ears and rushing out of the room he heard her press the rubber buttons of a wall mounted control system, the alarms turning off abruptly. Leaning down he picked up the piece of charred fabric he had thrown onto the fire. Groaning from the doorway Temperance saw him pick up her brown jacket from atop the pile of ash and curtains. He turned to find her leaning against the doorframe, her right hand wrapped around her midriff the other lying by her side. He looked at the smoking fabric that hung from his hand.

"My favorite jacket."

He looked from it to her then back again. The brown fabric now seemed familiar and the image of her wearing it came to him.

"I'm sorry Bones."

"I can get a new one."

Walking to her he guided her from the door both of them walking to the bed together, his hands gripping her shoulders. "Sit down and let me see your foot."

"Its fine Booth, it just looks bloody, appendages like your head and feet always bleed more due to a solitary, high supply of blood to keep them mo-" she said, her eyes focused on him like a teachers gaze upon a questioning student. He cut her off.

"Bones shut up and let me look at it." She felt the intense heat of anger fill her as he reached for her ankle. It pissed her off how he thought he could take charge of her, even if he was a good kisser and had come to her rescue. She hated playing the damsel in distress.

"I can take care of myself." she steamed through clenched teeth, pulling at a thin, long shard that rested almost fully inside the ball of her foot.

"Tempe you need a hospital."

"I said I can handle it." She snapped finally removing the glass trying not to react to the fleshy scraping feeling that came as the glass was extracted. It felt weird to have him sue her first name.

"I don't mean for your feet." She looked up at him, her gaze furious then following his down to her left wrist. The skin was charred and red, peeling exposing to more charred skin. She hadn't noticed before and as she looked at it it was as though her eyes prompted it to tingle slowly into a sharp and warm sting. "I can handle that too." She said defiantly. Standing up she made her way to the bathroom, Booth hot on her heals, filling her ears with protests. Stopping at the small cupboard mirror that hung high above her sink she took a look at their faces together in the mirror. God he was gorgeous. Shaking her head slightly she opened the mirror.

"Bones you ok? You really should get to a hospital…"

"I don't need medical attention; it's a simple burn, only the top layer of skin is burnt."

"I don't think so Bones"

"Leave the medical stuff up to me Booth; it's not your thing." She mocked his comment from earlier on that day. She looked back into the mirror as she closed it, a roll of gauze and tube on Neosporin in her hands. His face looked like that of a saddened puppy dog.

"Hold this." She handed him the gauze, lightly pouring and spreading the Neosporin over her wrist, cringing as she hit a patch of burnt, exposed under skin. Setting the anti-infection medication down she motioned for him to hand her the gauze. Instead he held the base of her forearm, just below her elbow and began to carefully wrap the fabric around her wrist. When he finished he looked up at her with a grin. "Maybe I know a little bit on the subject." He paused and she tried to speak.

"Thank -"

"But psychology still isn't your thing." His smile widened and became Cheshire like. Flicking off the lights in the bathroom, both of them still occupying it, the glow from her bedroom glowing behind him like a halo, his voice almost made her jump. "You need some sleep. Take the couch and I'll have a team over here in the morning to check out the fire." She nodded though she knew he could not see her, and passed quickly by him grabbing the comforter off of her bed and heading for the couch.

* * *

Booth woke up with a start, Brennan's alarm clock blaring loudly from her room. He sat up, realizing he had fallen asleep on the thin strip of floor between Brennan's couch and glass coffee table. Yawning he reached up towards the couch to wake her, hoping not to hit a place that would make Brennan uncomfortable, and found nothing but her comforter. Standing quickly and throwing the comforter from the couch he fist tightened on the material. Running to the guest room he seemed to glide into his clothes, his suit on in seconds, his shoes tied and his gun holstered at his side, he was out of the door before he had time to check her room, the alarm still blaring after him.

Twenty minutes later he burst through the doors of the Jeffersonian, rushing through security, badge out and gun setting metal detectors off as he passed through and into the examinations rooms. "Where's Brennan?" he demanded making both Zack and Hodgins jump, Angela looking at him coarsely then to Brennan's office. Seeley turned sharply on his heels and headed towards it, Angela running after him and stopping just outside of the door, her arms spread across the door frame. "She's sleeping sweetie, let her sleep." He looked past her shoulder to see a slumped over Bones, her hair splayed across her desk, her head resting on her hands. She looked almost like a child, her brows furrowing in a dream then setting into their usual position again, her face calm and angelic in her sleep.

"Poor thing, she told me what happened last night." Angela sighed as she began to walk away from the office hoping Booth would follow her, when he didn't she looked back to see him watching bones through the glass o her office, his look concerned and tender. "Booth?" he looked over to her startled and walked to her, matching her pace as she started walking again.

"This morning she brought in the brick and we analyzed it. He used an alcohol based ignition fluid to light the baby blanket it was wrapped in. He had to have soaked it for a few hours, days maybe, the material being made almost entirely out of fleece. But Zack and Hodgins and probably tell you more about it." She concluded, leaving him standing near an examination table upon which the charred brick sat. Zack looked up at Booth and began going over the details. "The baby blanket could have been bought in any local department store, but the brick is location specific. It's made with a home made mix of crushed shell and concrete putting our suspect somewhere around this area." He walked to a map hung on the wall and indicated with his pencil a small riverside neighborhood. "We've found brick samples almost identical to this one in this area before."

"Ok…uhh…"

"Zack."

"Zack, right, have you had someone out there already to interview people?"

Hodgins butt in now "No, we figured that was your department."

Booth's gaze wandered back over to Brennan's office to find Angela shaking her shoulder lightly, trying to wake her. Bones sat up slowly, rubbing her cheek with one hand and yawning. He turned back to Hodgins quickly the question blurting out from between his lips before he could think about it, he didn't need to. "Has she had her wrist checked out yet?"

Hodgins shook his head lightly "Not that I know of."

Booth's concern slowly rose to his expression the subsided as Angela and Bones approached behind him. Whirling on them Seeley's concern quickly turned to anger. "Why the hell did you leave with out me Bones? How the hell did you think I would react!" he steamed loudly through almost clenched teeth, causing a few passerby's to stop and stare. Brennan stopped in her tracks, Angela mirroring the action.

"I didn't think you'd care."

"After what happened last night you thought I wouldn't care!"

"I can take care of myself." Her groggy eyes darkened with her words.

"That's not what I meant Bones." He paused putting his hands on his hips, taking the plunge before he had the thought to stop himself. "I thought I made it pretty clear last night how I felt about you."

His eyes widened almost as quickly as her stormy grays. The room almost instantly fell into an awkward silence, Brennan's shock burning up in her cheeks. _Shit. _He thought, his eyes never leaving hers as anger boiled deep behind them. Taking hold of his arm she pulled him towards her office, throwing the door shut behind them with a loud bang.

"You NEVER! Never! have the right to disclose personal encounters between you and myself in front of my colleges and students!" Her face reddened with anger. "It's embarrassing and personal and extremely unprofessional!"

"So you're embarrassed with the fact that we kissed? Willingly on both parts I might add."

"The hell it was willingly, I would rather kiss one of the decomposing bodies I get paired with every week than you." the words slipped out in a cruel half whisper, the letters meant to etch into his bones. Moving past him and out of the office door she moved like a steam engine and out of the examinations lab, past watchers and out of the building into the parking lot. _Damn him. _She thought.

_Damn the bastard._

A/n: Hey thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Drop the vagabond and paint the picture

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; they belong to Fox, Josephson Entertainment and Far Field Productions. I also do not own these lyrics, they belong to The Fray.

_Beautiful. The most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. The way she walked, the way her hair bounced, the way her back tensed when she knew he was watching. He couldn't deal with just standing back and watching, but he had to, was forced to watch her curl up on her couch with a book instead of hold her in his arms as they both read, instead of caressing her pinking cheek as they kissed, instead of lying next to her as she slept sprawled across his chest. And that partner of hers, the asshole with the badge, he had gotten to her, he had kissed her and held her and saved her. The Badge had done everything he wanted to do. But it was his turn now. He would hold her safe and tight in his arms and brush her tears away. _HE_ would, not the fucking Badge. And now he had really driven the spike through, The Badge had fucked up._

He smiled at the thought as he followed her into the parking lot as a concerned friend coming to another friend's aide. "Ms. Brennan?" he called after her, she turned around, her cheeks not yet wet but the white of her eyes red and her lids beginning to swell. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and took in a deep breath, composing herself for him. He knew the tears weren't sadness; they were embarrassment, fury and frustration towards The Badge.

"Are you ok?" he asked digging in his pocket for a handkerchief he knew would be there, as well as the small eye-drop bottle of chloroform.

"Yea, I'm fine Bailey, thank you."

Softly squeezing the eyedropper's contents onto the handkerchief while it still sat in his pocket, he removed it, holding it towards her face as though to wipe her un shed tears. Smelling the chemical almost automatically she began to back away, her eyes widening. He took her surprise as an opportunity to strike, lunging at her, the handkerchief aimed for her mouth and nose. He thought it would be simple, she was small, maybe eighty or more pounds lighter than he. It wasn't. As he came down at her she flattened her palm and struck at his nose, breaking it and sending blood into his eyes. He staggered away, hearing her screams for The Badge as he scrambled away and into his car, peeling out of the parking lot before The Badge even reached her.

* * *

Leaning against her car she stopped yelling, but knew Booth was well on his way to her rescue. Crossing her arms over chest she tried to figure out why she had called him. She had wanted him to burn in the depths only moments before but she still expected him to save her. Before her reached her she was already in her car, starting the engine. Tapping on her window he made a motion for her to roll it down but she didn't even look at him until she turned the steering wheel and hit the gas, backing out of the parking space, her eyes meeting his for a moment, irritated. "Bones!" she heard him shout after her car as she pulled from the parking lot, hitting the gas and drowning out his voice with the sound of her cars motor. 

_Damnit _she thought, her eyes glued to the road in front of her. What the hell was she doing? She had been embarrassed in front of her coworkers by her partner, almost knocked out by who she thought was a friend and then had run away from a man she could possible have feelings for. _Had. _Could_ have HAD feelings for. _She thought to herself. How dare he bring that up in front of her colleagues? _Forget about it Bones. _She almost slammed on the breaks. Damnit, he even had her calling herself Bones. Then the question came again. Why? Why was she running like this? Because she could take care of herself. She re-assured herself. She didn't need Booth. She could kick some ass if she wanted to, had done it before on several occasions. She couldn't believe it was Bailey. Dr. Benjamin Vance Bailey. He was about her age and a little taller than her with cool green eyes and close cropped blond hair. She had worked with him for several years and had come to trust him. _Maybe it isn't him; maybe you just thought you smelled chloroform. _Her mind almost begged her to believe it, but her rationality wouldn't allow it. He had clearly approached her with intention. _Whatever, _she thought, trying to clear her mind of the day's events. Needing a distraction the pressed a button on her car's stereo sending Foreigner's Hot blooded through her car. Immediately she changed the cd to somethingcalmer that didnt make her think of Booth, the singer's voice coming out in soothing tones.

"So this is where you are, and this is where I am. Somewhere between unsure and a hundred." The voice cooed, her eye lids growing heavy with the drowsy combination of the song and movement of her car on the road. Her head had just begun to tilt foreword when the blast came. Pulling her gaze up quickly with the sound of a horn blaring, she spotted the red light just as her car flew through it, another car nearly missing her on the deserted four stop as she turned the steering wheel hard, causing her car to skid and turn 250 degrees, her eyes catching the tail end of the other car as it pulled away, it seemed oddly familiar. Then she hit the tree. Drivers side first she slammed into the huge, solid oak, her airbag deploying and sending her head hard into the window, creating a bullet hole like shatter as the bridge of her temple collided with the glass, her vision spiraling through cloudy white circles then going pitch black.

A/n: Thank you for the reviews! I hope you liked this chapter, I felt that the Bones was a little out of character but I'm not sure, so I apologize if she was.


	5. Make no sudden movements so nobody hurts

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, however Fox, Josephson Entertainment, and Far Field productions do.

_Oh my God, sweet, sweet God. He had found her already. How easy it had been. She had practically run into him. It was proof that he was meant to have her, this event the sign. Their cars had almost collided, almost struck each other as she had fled from him, as he had gone back to find her. How ironic, to almost die in a crash while fleeing from the very same man that one was nearly taken by. _

He smiled as he pulled the car off of the road and into the large field of cattails and weeds. Moving to the back of the pick up, he removed a large blue plastic container from the back of it. She would fit in it as perfectly as he had suspected. Walking to the smoking car in which she sat he pulled it along with him, pleased to find her slumped across the steering wheel and window. She deserved it, no matter how much he cared for her, she deserved the blow to the head for breaking his nose. Entering her vehicle from the passenger side door he leaned over, unbuckling her seat belt and pulling on her arm, making her slump over into his lap. She was out cold and it pleased him to no end. Careful of her head wound he moved her into his arms, picking her up, limp, out of the seats and then the car. The wound wasn't too bad, one or two shards of glass barely stuck in it. He lay her down in the large rectangular bucket, her arms holding her in a sitting position as he set them against the walls of the container. Leaning towards her he pulled the shards out which re ignited the bleeding. Taking one last look at the car and through the open door to the red tinted window he lowered her fully into the container and snapped on the lid, picking up the container and walking back to the truck.

* * *

Booth sat behind her desk, wishing it was her instead of him who sat in the chair, himself sitting on the couch across from her desk. But she had stormed out on him, with every right, he conceded. He had been a flat out asshole, implying their kiss in their place of work. He could tell she was embarrassed, but he had trouble figuring out if it was the kiss or the human side of her that had been shown. Sighing he looked down at the note again, his heart skipping as he re read the lines.

_Special Agent Booth,_

_It will be everywhere, her blood, thick like syrup. It will flow from her chest, from her legs, from her beautiful face. I'll tear her lips open, slice the tender skin of her neck from the cords and muscles that fill it. Flay her like a fish and make her watch as I slit the tips of her fingers open. I'll blind her, make her listen to her own screams as I torture her, leaving her ears and lips for later. Maybe I'll take her for my own pleasure, give her what you can't. I'll make her beg me for death, for salvation in the form of a gun or blade. Then I'll display her publicly; lay her nude body in the center of her precious museum, or rotting on a park bench. Either way your sweet Bones will be disgraced and forgotten as the anthropologist and writer she is and be taken as you seem to take other deceased persons; as a corpse, the hollow shell of a person who was never really someone, just an empty casing. Well soon, Agent Booth, You'll learn to recognize the value of a life lost. _

It wasn't signed, just written and addressed to his apartment. He cringed as the words sunk in. It was horrible the cruelties that one human could do to another, let alone think of doing to another. At that moment Angela chose to burst through he doors, eyes watery, mascara beginning to spread down her cheek. "Oh my god! Booth! Oh my god!" He jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over the desk. "What? Angela what?"

"Tempe. I found her car, it's smashed into a tree a few miles from here, and there's blood all over the place and I can't find her and she's not at her apartment!" new tears ran down her cheeks as she no longer tried to conceal them. "She's hurt Booth; I know it, that sick bastard who's after her got her!"

"Angela calm down." He raised his hands to grab her shoulders but her tears quickly turned to anger.

"If you wouldn't have mentioned the kiss in front of all of us! If you wouldn't have embarrassed her she wouldn't have left!" the look she received begged her to go on. "Yea, sweetie, she told me about it, I'm her best friend for God sake!" she threw the hands that had previously been up in the air to her sides. Looking down she shook her head lightly then looked back up at him sheepishly. "I'm sorry Booth, Come on lets go find her." She turned and left the glass office, the agent hot on her heals.

* * *

It was cold. All she could think was that it was cold. And that her head hurt like a son of a bitch. She was trying to open her eyes when she noticed the movement. Where the hell was she? Finally opening her eyes after a great deal of mental urging she found herself in total darkness. Total, complete, utter darkness. And something was rattling. Loudly. Then she noticed how close the walls were. Smooth and almost static they seemed to touch every part of her body, the static making her hairs stand on end. She was enclosed, her muscles starting to tense. The roof of what ever she was in began to sink and press against her ribs and quickened her breath, her knees bending up in a desperate attempt to stop the pressure. It didn't work as the walls began to pin her arms to her side like a boa constructer, the walls of the enclosure melting around her like a coating of cling wrap. Closing her eyes tightly she counted to twenty, then twenty five and re opened them, the pressure gone. Then like a freight train it came down on her again, suddenly and painfully. Beginning to hyperventilate she thrust back and forth against her enclosure, screaming until tears streamed down her cheeks and splashed on the floor that pressed her so hard to the ceiling. Her mind flashed back to El Salvador, the tears burning across her cheek as they began to fall harder. The bag over her head, the threats; in her panic she barely felt the movement stop. Hearing a door open and close she began to scream again. "Let me out! For God's sake! Please! PLEASE!" the last word came out as a harsh, throaty scream as she began to choke on the sobs that arose in her clenching throat. She knew where she was now. She was in some type of vehicle, enclosed in something plastic and hard. She heard nothing but silence and tried to calm her breathing then yelled once more, still to no avail. Suddenly whatever she was in was jolted, violently thrust back and forth, sending the sides slamming against her once more, making her throat tighten once more and the sobs return. She barely heard chuckling over her own breathing then another distant door opening and closing. Then nothing but her harried gasps and coughs, dizziness setting in in thick, horrifying waves. She couldn't breathe.

She was going to die.

A/n: Hey thank you for the reviews! Sorry to leave you on such a horrible note, but I hope you enjoyed! Sorry about the note, I didn't like writing it, but it had to be gruesome.


	6. Bet you cant guess whats in my pocket

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are owned by Fox, Josephson Entertainment, Far field productions and Kathy Reich.

Red and twisting, dancing along sleek, sharp edges, and dropping off into a nearly inevitable end. The grey swam through the air on wind, dying all things to match its tint, the brilliant red glowing amongst the black and white of the scene that lay ahead of the cool, deep brown. Soon the black and white faded to rich shades of brown and tan, the only colors still the brilliant red but now light blue, green and auburn were tossed into the mix of hues. Her skin was pale and her hair almost matched the blood. The look on her face was twisted with anger. He blinked, though the movement seemed like a life time. When his eyes reopened, she was gone, though the tint of the blood on the broken window remained, the small streak of red that trickled over the seat. It was there, but Bones was not. Special Agent Seeley Booth stood just beyond her wrecked and smoking car, his eyes taking in the destruction.

"She didn't just get out of the car." Angela made him jump as he remembered her presence. "The blood patterns on the seat wouldn't look like that. Someone took her from the car." she stopped and looked at the ground. "She taught me a thing or two about it." She nodded her head more to reassure herself than Booth. He turned and examined her, anything to keep his eyes from the wrecked car and blood smeared window. She stood strong, a hip cocked slightly with her arms crossed across her chest.

"Did she tell you about he note?"

Her eyebrows arched and she shook her head lightly. "What note?"

* * *

Her throat burnt and felt dry, her tongue thick and sandy in her mouth. She couldn't scream anymore and desperately needed a drink, and oxygen, god she _wanted_ oxygen. She couldn't tell how long it had been since the motion had stopped but she couldn't sob anymore, could hardly breath. She had noted temperature changes in the walls of her enclosure. Cooling, then heating, then cooling again. She could feel sleep crusting around her eyes with the remnants of dried tears. Her legs and hands felt numb in the casing of her cage. The walls seemed closer now than ever, like she was in a coffin, a child's coffin, small and wooden, built for a child of three or four feet. Maybe half of her size, the walls of the container bit into her skin though there were no sharp or rough edges, only smooth, static surfaces that made her want to claw at her own skin. She couldn't stop thinking of Booth, of no matter how much he embarrassed her it wasn't worth this, it wasn't worth being smashed to death in a box somewhere in the middle of God knows where. She remembered their kiss and longed for it now, longed to be held in his arms instead of the arms of claustrophobia, of this damn little cage. Then suddenly she jerked, the box moving heavily and quickly from its current position. Trying to regain her voice she croaked and gasped as the box was moved hard, back and forth.

"Please let me out…please" she begged barely above a hoarse whisper. The shaking and swinging worsened the phobia, her teeth biting down sharply on the inside of her cheeks she began to shake again, the tremors rough and to her bones. As abruptly as the movement started it stopped and she heard a rush of air as the top of her enclosure came off, her eyes crushed shut in fear. The voice from outside didn't lift the claustrophobia. "Hello Temperance, Don't like small places do we?" the voice almost sang to her from above. "Up and at 'em sweetheart." With that he gripped her arm tightly and ripped her up out of the box, her mouth opening widely with gasps of fresh air. He let go of her and watched, delighted, as she fell onto the ground, her hands and knees holding her up as she opened her eyes and took in deep breathes, her back arching to allow more air into her lungs. "Now Temperance, Booth wouldn't want to see you like this would he?" this caused her eyes to shoot up to his. "Why my dear… you didn't think I'd take you from him without something in exchange did you?" Taking a step foreword he gripped the back of her neck and pulled her up. With all the strength she had she kicked his feet out from under him, his grip pulling her down with him as she tried to wriggle out of his grip. Loosening his hands with the nails of her own she righted herself on the ground and scooted backwards, keeping her eyes on his as he lurched closer, grabbing hold of her ankle. Thrusting all of her weight forewords and onto the function of her ankle and foot moving upwards. In turn her foot connected with his already broken nose and forehead, sending him rolling and screaming. "You Bitch!" he held onto his bleeding nose and removed something from his pocket but she was on her feet before she could see what it was. She couldn't find a door or any windows, they were in an empty room with no lighting but that from a small wall mounted lamp. She turned back to see a grey door behind him just as he plunged the end of the taser into her stomach, hitting with a full powered shock that made her knees wobble and stomach wrench. The shock stopped her just long enough to allow him a good shot at her face, his knuckles connecting to her cheek bone with a loud pop.

He removed the taser and allowed her to drop unconscious from the wall to the floor. "It's a shame that he'll have to see you like this Dr. Brennan, you'd look so much better without the shiner." He looked down at her limp form and leaned foreword, propping her up and walking to the door to retrieve the scissors. "You'll look so nice when I'm done Dr."

* * *

The day after he showed Angela the note he received the photos, some where in black and white, some sepia others color. Color was the worst. They all were of Forensic Anthropologist Temperance Brennan, his partner, his friend. She lay, eyes closed, hair chopped off to just below her jaw line, maybe shoulder length if it wasent curling as it did in the photo. The layers were chunky and un even, her bangs reaching just to her cheekbones, nearly concealing the purple bruise that spread across her cheek towards her lips. The pictures were hard to stomach, obvious that they'd been taken by a professional. One showed her in a dream like state, her mouth open and her brows furrowed. That one was in color, the angle it was taken at made her whole face seem consumed by the ugly bruise. Another was taken from her feet as she leaned against the wall; her back slumped as the picture progressed into the background of her torso and face, her arms lying limp at her sides, a large burn ark in the center of her light shirt. In this her mouth was shut and her bright blue eyes glued to the ground in shame. This photo was black and white. Looking up from them he swallowed hard. _At least she's still alive Seeley, she's still alive. _He quickly sifted that photo to the back and was greeted by her full on, battered stare, her blue eyes piercing in the color picture, begging anyone who would look at the photo to help her, though determination sat behind the fear, her jaw set on her own accord, though the hand that gripped her chin, forcing her face to the camera seemed to do it. Slamming the photos down onto the table he picked up the phone. "Angela? I need your help."

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sorry its kind of brutal.


	7. The scream heard 'round the world

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are owned by fox, Josephson Entertainment, Far Field Productions and Kathy Reich.

Slight but towering, weak but stubborn. It glowed in the depth of the blue, the core of the gleam. It sparkled though there was no light upon which it could reflect. It was her spirit, her force, her intelligence, her being. It only made their games more fun. And she was getting better at them. It was only their third day but she had improved a great deal, making him work harder. Though they hadn't been playing for long he knew that it was severe, the game happening two or three times a day. He loved the game; it made his lips tingle, his hands quiver. It made him so happy it was beyond belief. He liked to remember it afterwards. Sometimes he won, sometimes she did. Smiling as he entered her room, he couldn't help but recall their last game. She had only screamed once. He had beaten her harshly, nearly knocking her unconscious, pulling her hands above her beautiful face and thrusting his knee in to her stomach then holding her close and digging his nails into her back. The only time she screamed was when he went for her chest, his hands gripping for anything he could take hold of he had nearly torn the tender skin of her breastbone. Then she had screamed. Long and loud. Now he stared at her bruised face, her eyes slowly coming up to meet his, the slightest flicker of a smile crossing her lips. He could only hit her once this time. One hit per scream. Soon he would have to make it three per scream or she would ignore the pain. He watched, pleased, as her smile faded when she caught sight of the cut-off garden hose he gripped tightly in his hands. The door behind him closed, sending his shadow fading into black as the backlighting as diminished.

She was getting better. Now she had to reserve her strength. She could feel the knots in the muscles of her stomach and back, the scratches on her back finally beginning to heal and itch, the skin sewing itself back together. But suddenly she couldn't feel any of it. In his hand he held a thick green hose, cut to about two feet long, the spray nozzle still attached to one end. He was going to make his one hit the worst it could possibly be. In her mind she debated weather or nor to fight against him. _Not yet, you're too weak. Wait until you're stronger. _Grabbing the collar of her shirt he eased her up easily, not feeding her for the three days she had spent with him she had become lighter, the beatings seemed to make her loose weight as well. He tossed her against the wall and pulled her right leg out from under her. Her throat felt like hot charcoal but she chose to speak, her words slithering out like a snake's breathe.

"Does that count as your hit?" she almost mocked him but was too tired to fully convey the intonation of sarcasm. Taking a look at her he held her leg still with his foot, the pressure forcing her tarsal hard into the cement floor, sending her foot bending at an odd angle. This was going to hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip as he raised the hose. She heard him chuckle just before he brought the hose's nozzle down on her ankle, pain ripping up her leg and into her chest as the pop sounded and she felt the bone break. When she finally opened her mouth her tongue was soaked in a coppery taste, her own blood seeping from her lower lip. When she opened her eyes she found herself face to face with him, his blaring green eyes tearing into her core. His face was reddening she knew, though she could barely see the color in the dark. She smiled, her teeth red tinted with her own blood. "You fucking bitch!" he screamed into her face.

He had broken her fucking ankle and she hadn't screamed, she hadn't made a noise, just convulsed as the pain flitted up her nerves. And now she had the audacity to smile at him.

"Game Over." He heard her whisper into his face, her breath hot and smelling of blood as it spread over his cheeks. That was it. He finally snapped. Grabbing hold of her hair he slammed her head back against the concrete wall, her previous wound sending her head spinning on impact, his other hand grabbing at her neck. Then moving over her chest to her arm and grabbing hold of the burn around her wrist. Taking hold of the scabbing flesh he found a loose piece and began to pull, her blue eyes watering. Suddenly ripping his hand back he took skin along with it, then forced his hand back over the newly opened wound, sending her voice screeching into the air as the oils of his skin met the exposed under skin and nearly exposed outer layer of muscle. He smiled leaning in and nuzzling her neck. "Shhhh…." His voice crooned into her ear as fresh tears raced down her cheeks like box cars.

* * *

He had successfully gotten Angela to acquire files on everyone in the Jeffersonian who had a background of photography and violent behavior, four turning up after the eventual search. One was femalethree were male. He figured he could rule out the female. He had concluded that Brennan's kidnapper was a Caucasian male, maybe thirty-five to forty years of age, medium to large build build, with a history of photography and perhaps self blame for a death of a loved one, a definite history of violence. He definitely worked at the Jeffersonian, the note giving hints to his profession and connection to Booth and Temperance. The three names that came up were that of a Charles England, Adam Davis and Benjamin Bailey. All prime suspects except for Adam Davis, who was a small built, twenty-nine year old African American intern. He sat Brennan's desk once again, this time looking at the photos of the two men he had narrowed it down to, his mind yelling at him to find an answer. 

"She liked it you know."

He nearly leapt out of the seat when he heard Angela's voice from the doorway. "What?"

"The kiss, she liked kissing you." Her smile was slight as she lost eye contact with him. "We have to find her Booth."

Suddenly Zack ran by the room as though skidding and turned around, his eyes glued on Booth. "Dr. Benjamin Bailey hasn't checked into work the last three days." He was out of breath and puffing as Booth ran past him barking orders. "Get me an address for Dr. Bailey and right now, he has Bones. You know my number." He walked backwards as he spoke, throwing his coat on and turning around as he finished. "Wait up!" Angela yelled, grabbing her coat but neglecting to put it on. They made it to the parking lot in seconds, his hand meeting the handle of the SUV's door before he could think about it.

_Hold on Bones,Please, hold on._

A/N: Hey, thanks for the reviews, sorry about the cruelty towards Bones. I didn't like writing it, ut I hope you enjoyed.


	8. Break your finger for one look at her

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are owned by Fox, Josephson Entertainment, Far Field productions and Kathy Reich.

Her body was reacting before her mind would, before she could stop the spark of idea from gliding down her nervous system, from making her lips move, from making her tongue slide over the roof of her mouth as she spoke. First her words came out as nothing but air, then a cough. This grabbed his attention. He leaned back from her, his eyes meeting the pain in hers. "What is it Temperance?" she heard her own name slip from his lips like air from a pressurized hose; meant to sound tender but much too sadistic as he leaned his ear towards her cracked lips. She could barely look him in the eyes, her mind flying to what he had just done to her. A slow, heavy mantra began to waltz through her thoughts. _Save your strength,_ _save your strength, save your-_ "You cheated." She muttered with the force she had hoped would be behind it. He turned his eyes to her suddenly, their noses nearly touching and his green eyes nearly as intense as hers.

Lunging foreword with all the power she could muster, another loud crack sounding in her limp ankle, she aimed her mouth for his broken nose. _What the hell are you doing Brennan?_ She almost stopped mid lunge to think about the answer. _Saving my life.

* * *

_

He slammed on the brakes just after a red light, a red corvette whizzing past and honking like a mad man. "Asshole" Booth muttered under his breath, his companion, Angela Montenegro, sat plastered to the leather seat of Agent Booth's SUV, her eyes the only part of her anatomy moving to look at him. "He's the asshole?" her eyebrows raised now as he looked over then slammed on the gas before his head could turn to see the red glow turn to green. Suddenly his cell phone lit up and began to ring, its vibrations sending a buzzing noise as it sat in the holder. Flipping it open and hitting "send" Hodgins voice boomed into the car. "He lives in a small white house, the address being 1343 Asbury Road, take a left in central square and keep going 'till you reach Asbury, it should be the fourteenth house on the right, and their pretty spread out." Booth looked at Angela and vise versa.

"Thanks Hodgins."

"Find her Booth."

"Sure thing" he clicked off the phone and made an immediate and sharp left turn onto an old street. "Sure fucking thing."

* * *

The new blood tasted different in her mouth as her teeth caught the edge of his nose and tore skin. He began to scream and flail about violently. Swinging at him hard her fist connected with the lower to ribs on his right side making him topple over onto his chest and knees. Then her hand once again caught the same ribs, this time from the back and sending the air out of him. Gasping, he reached for her, taking hold of her hips and pulling her down hard. Then he was on top of her. _Now what to do Brennan?_ She raised her knee quickly, hitting him in the groin and rolling him off of her. Crawling to the door she opened it, her ankle screaming at her, her wrist leaving trails of blood and screaming harder then the ankle. Using he handle and her right hand to lift herself she limped, groaning and cringing all the while out of the room, slamming the door behind her onto a pair of white fingers. She heard his scream through the door, his severed fingers lying on the floor next to her swelling ankle.

* * *

Turning into central square both of them visibly tensed, their apprehension for what they might find building. Booth looked over to his partner's best friend, only able to imagine what she might be thinking of. "She's alive Angela. I know she is."

"How?" the woman sitting next to him looked up at his face with watery brown eyes, the emotion of the situation playing over her features as easily as silk over skin.

"You could say it's my gut." He tried a weak smile but was too worried to manage it. He wished his gut could really feel it, but alas, there was no tingle, no clenching, nothing. He wasn't sure she was still alive and wasn't sure if he wanted to run the risk of finding out she was not.

* * *

Breathing heavily and leaning against the counter of what seemed to be a living room turned kitchen she took a second to calm the adrenaline that pumped through her veins. Searching the cabinets and drawers of the tan kitchenette with her good hand she looked for some sort of towel or weapon. Find the towel first she also found several rubber bands, and painfully wrapped it around her left wrist, then on went the rubber bands to apply pressure. That's when the door opened again. The noise made her jump as the metallic door slammed hard against the wall behind it.

* * *

Pulling onto Asbury Booth sped quickly down the thickly-tree lined neighborhood, the houses at least twenty feet from each other. _Quiet, no wonder he got away with no reports of disturbance. _He thought, his eyes pinning the numbers that rested on every mail box. 1322, 1325, 1327. _Damnit, were coming Bones.

* * *

_

She had the sharp point of a knife in her hands in seconds, the handle sliding into her hands as the blade replaced the air before her hand. He smiled at the sight of the weapon, his eyes sparkling. "Temperance…." This time his voice was soft but taunting. "Come on Temperance, put the knife down, you'll only get hurt more." The twinkle shined brighter. Seeing it she turned and began to place the knife down on the counter, the metal of the blade hitting the tan counter top as he lunged for her. Quickly removing the meat tenderizer from its basket, in which other tools like ladles were held, she spun on him, the meat cleaver meeting the base of his neck as she dodged from his grasp, his body hitting the tile floor hard in unconsciousness. Struggling for breathe she tried to leave the room, meeting stairs that lead to a raised door under which a thin line of light spread.

* * *

He slammed into the driveway, his door open before he even stopped the car. "Stay here" he ordered her, his door shut before the vowel swept into the car. Angela sat anxiously as she watched Booth raise his gun and kick the fro door open, his words reaching her loudly from outside of the car. "FBI! Mr. Benjamin Bailey, you are under arrest for the disappearance of One Dr. Temperance Brennan. Come out with your hands behind your head!" But beyond that she could see nothing but short glances through the front window of booth searching the home.

* * *

She made it up the stairs slowly, the pain of her ankle making her dizzy, her wrist feeling like it was in a tub of boiling grease. But she made it. Turning the door's handle quickly she found it locked, a stream of cuss words flying through her brain. Looking around her she spotted a lump in the carpet and found not only the key to the door but her car keys, earrings and a clump of her own hair. Testing three of the eight keys she found the door finally unlocked and she stumbled out, the sunlight burning her eyes though it was only overcast. She managed on her feet for about four feet then fell, the dizziness taking over along with the pain. From there she crawled to the side of a building g that sat before her she couldn't tell what exactly what it was, her vision blurred, but it seemed to be a home.

* * *

He ran through the house, opening closets and doors, revealing empty room upon empty room. Angela couldn't take it any longer; she couldn't see him anymore as he had moved to the back of the house. Removing herself from the car she began to walk around the side, stopping in her tracks with the sight that lay before her, her eyes watering and the image blurring. Lying on the lush, deep green grass beside the home was a very thin, pale woman with short cropped brown hair, her closing eyes a light grey blue. Wrapped around her wrist tightly was a once white kitchen towel, now soaked pink. "Oh my god, Bren." She ran to the limp form, landing on her knees and scooping the figure up into her arms. The figure stirred and cringed as she was held.

"Let go of me, please, let go, please…" a tiny voice begged from the wrecked shell of Anthropologist, Dr. Temperance Brennan.

A/N: sorry for all the break-ups in lines, its just I wasn't sure how to tell the two different stories other wise. Hope you enjoyed.


	9. Your Salad finds me frightening

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Fox, Josephson Entertainment, Far Field productions and Kathy Reich do.

She didn't know who was holding her, didn't know who was approaching them, all she saw were blurs, thick and muddy blobs that held her tight and floated across the lawn. _Oh my god, he had partners, I'm going to die, I'm going to die…_ the blob that held her now began to rock back and forth, light fingers brushing her hair. "Shhhh" It kept telling her. Just like he had after he had broken her ankle.

He walked up yelling after having been to the car to find Angela missing. He had yet to look at what lay before him. "She's not in the house, but there's a small place out…" His voice trailed off as she caught his eye. Lying in a heap was what looked to be his partner, though her body seemed tiny, her hair cut as it was in the pictures, dark circles around her grey eyes. Wrapped around her small frame was Angela Montenegro, tears flowing openly from her eyes.

"Bones?" He asked, his voice coming out louder than expected. He watched as she squirmed, apparently not hearing him and fighting against Angela's grasp. "Bones!" his voice seemed to slice through the air and hit her ears.

She stopped, the world seeming to go silent as she heard his voice. Was he really there? Who was holding her? She reached up to wipe her eyes but felt the sting of her left wrist. Dropping it to her side she rubbed her eyes with her right hand balled into a fist. Her vision still wavered but she could make out the blob that was holding her. "Angela!" she cried, grabbing onto the sleeves of her friends shirt and burying her tear streaked face into her friend chest. She was safe, oh god, she was safe.

"I'm here sweetie, I'm here, and so is Agent Booth. Your fine sweetie, just breath ok?" she was having trouble doing so herself. She looked over Temperance, noticing her swelling ankle and bruised legs, up to her unhealthy waist and tired shoulders. "Were gunna get you an ambulance Honey, I promise you'll be fine." Her friend shakily sobbed into her arms. Kneeling, Booth leaned down, his hand absently going to her hair, stroking it for all of its length though the strokes were short. "Were here Bones, Were here."

The ambulance had arrived twenty minutes later, along with several reporters and news crews. Dr. Brennan was quickly moved from Angela's grip to a gurney, then into the awaiting vehicle. Angela had ridden with her, Booth opting for his vehicle as he thought Angela was not in a state to drive safely. Following there ambulance was one which contents held Dr. Benjamin Bailey. Unconscious and vital stats low.

**One week later.**

The sound hit their ears before the image, the light squeak then slight drag. Then the same process of noises all over again. Entering from the lobby just beyond the examinations lab was Dr. Temperance Brennan, short hair pulled up in a small, bushy pony tail, face bruised, and armed with crutches. Her foot was held fast in a light green cast, her wrist wrapped in medical gauze and drug store wrist wrap. Wearing a blazer that looked much to big on her from her weight loss her shirt billowed around her waist. Her pants were held up by a tight belt, waves, smashed under the tightness of it. She looked up to be greeted with odd stares. Not quite sure what to do she looked at each of them individually. "Zack, did you examine the skull I left you?" his eyes widened at her question, he was a bit thrown off. "Uhm yes, but Doctor Brennan are you –" She cut him off. "Angela have you worked on the visual reconstruction of the soldier that I asked for?" her friend smiled and nodded, walking past her and into another office. "Hodgins, what about the insects we found in the torso found in Geneva?"

"Going to go work on it right now Dr. Brennan." Grabbing Zack by the arm, his response being a quizzical look, they exited, leaving only Booth and Brennan in an awkward silence.

"I didn't expect you to be back to work…so soon I mean."

"Uhh, yea… I couldn't stand being in the hospital and unable to work…they let me out early, much to my persisting I think." She wouldn't meet his gaze, embarrassed of their fight, of her appearance, of her disappearance. Finding an excuse to look her in the face he lifted her chin and stared into her blue grey eyes contently. "When do you really come back to work?"

She shook her head slowly, pulling her chin from his fingers, slightly shrugging. "I don't know. Goodman doesn't know I'm here right now."

"Thought so." He smiled. "God Bones, you never can get away from your work can you?"

She chucked lightly. "Nope…" she shook her head lightly back and forth, a sly smirk on her face. Her arms would have been crossed over her chest right now, he thought, if it weren't for the crutches. "I guess I cant." She finished, looking up to meet his gaze. Noticing her outfit he realized it was one that Angela had brought to Bones in the hospital. "You haven't been home have you?"

Her gaze pulled away from his.

"Why haven't you been home Bones?"

"Brennan or Temperance, I told you not to call me Bones." She smiled lightly.

"What ever Bones, Why haven't you been home?"

Her face turned a pale shade of red. "The hospital wanted to keep me a little while for some testing." She met his gaze again, her eyes unwavering.

"Mhmm…" he looked her over; she could feel his eyes on her frame. "Can I take you home?" She was caught off guard by the question, interpreting it for its bluntness.

"I'm not going with you to your house." _Take me with you anyway. _

"I meant to your house Bones." He smiled, almost laughing, but not quite.

"No." she paused. "I mean, no thank though, I think I'd rather go get something to eat first."

"Perfect, we can get…" he checked his watch. It read 6:52 Pm. "Dinner and go to your apartment."

"Booth, I'd rather not."

"Too late Bones, you've spoken to me about food and I'm damn starved." He wanted to grab her hand and pull her along but kept the crutches in mind. "Maybe I'll start calling you 'Crutchy' Like that kid from Newsies."

"I don't know what that means"

"Forget it Crutchy."

They had eaten at the local place, and sat at the bar, despite Brennan's wishes for a Booth. "It will be easier at the bar with your crutches." He had told her. Having eaten in silence and not spoken a word during the drive to her apartment they entered it silently, Bones tensing visibly as she entered. "Uhh, are you sure they've cleaned the mess from the fire?" she asked for the third time, the first two had been uttered and answered on the elevator trip to her floor.

"Yea Bones, Why are you so antsy?"

"I'm not." She tried to nonchalantly enter the large room that was both her kitchen and living room. The large space seemed peaceful, until the walls seemed to shift inward. Crutching over to her sofa, she sat, the comforter still laying over it from the night they had…_Forget it Bones…TEMPE. _

"Why don't you go get changed Bones, I'll make us some coffee."

"Uhmm, yea sure." She stood one more and crutched back to her room, reluctant to open the door. Finally twisting the handle the door moved with a slight creak, her window repaired and new curtains hung. Taking a few limps inside she was now reluctant to close it behind her. Though her bedroom was slightly bigger than the room she had been held in it didn't help. The walls seemed to jut foreword, their paint reaching for her throat. Quickly and painfully changing into a pair of pajama pants and a tank top she crutched out of the room as fast as possible, nearly running into booth as he made his way toward her, a coffee mug in each hand.

"Whoa, Bones, where are you going?"

"To the living room…"

"No your not, you need some good sleep, so turn around."

She pouted at him but it didn't work. As she paused at the door he almost barreled through her. "You ok Bones?"

"BRENNAN! And yes, I'm fine." _No I'm not, I'm scared shitless of my own bedroom…_

"Then hurry up, just because you're a gimp doesn't mean it should slow me down." He smiled awkwardly and nudged her back lightly, feeling a wet layer of sweat through the thin fabric of her top. She wasn't ok.

"Are you sure Brennan?" she turned and looked at him oddly, worried that he had used her name.

"Yea Booth, I'm fine." Trying to show the gist of her confidence she wobbled into the room and sat on the bed, her grip like steel on the wooden crutches. "These things really hurt your underarms." She smiled awkwardly as he sat next to her, nearly sending her sinking into the mattress, his weight greater than hers. He noticed.

"Bones, you didn't eat much today when we went out." She had snagged food from his plate, sipping on her water and barely touching her salad.

"I wasn't very hungry, that's all. He kind of…I've just lost my appetite lately."

He nodded, understanding that she didn't want to discuss him. She had yet to tell him what exactly happened, all he new was that the man broke her ankle and some of her spirit. She had only spoken to him about the squints and work when he had visited her in the hospital.

Looking at her she seed tired, deep rings already sleeping under her light eyes.

"Why don't you get some sleep, I'll go to the couch unless you want me to stay." She didn't answer and he began to leave, her voice calling to him as he reached the door. "Stay. Please." With that he released the door handle and looked back to her sculpture like back as she lie down on the mattress of her bead, not bothering with the comforter. He nodded to himself. "Do I get a piece of the bed or the floor?" he smiled, another gesture for his own benefit. She made him wait a minute.

"You can sleep up here, but stay on your side." She warned him in a sleep slurred voice. He was glad she was nearly pulled into the dream world of sleep as he climbed onto the bed, slipping his shoes off in the process. Her eyes fluttered one last time then remained closed, her bruised face calm in sleep.

_Goodnight Temperance, sleep well._

A/N: This chapter is a little bit calmer; I thought Bones deserved some peace. Hope you enjoyed it!


	10. My hair made me move into the next room

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, except for bailey, but he's old news. But the others are owned by Fox, Josephson Entertainment, Far Field Productions and Kathy Reich.

He had felt a light stirring about twenty minutes after sleep set in, his subconscious telling him his bedmate was just tossing in her sleep. Two hours after sleep had rested its heavy hand on his eye lids he realized, mid-dream, that his partner no longer occupied the space next to him. Flying up in bed, no need to throw the non-existent covers from himself, he fled from the mattress, his thoughts set on finding Bones. His cool brown eyes scanned the room, his sniper's vision locking onto each item in moments, then moving on. She was definitely not in the room. Questions began to fly through his mind like lit arrows. What if Bailey had been released from the hospital? What if he knew _she _had been released? Had he followed them to her place and taken her again? Slipped her from his grasp to torture her again? To punish her for escaping? Then his eyes caught the thin lines of light from just above and below the bathroom door. A calm came over him as he heard water running. Walking to the door he knocked to no avail, then again, still with no response.

"Bones?" he called, his ear pressed to the door. Once again there was no response. He tried the handle, the metal sleek and cool in his hand. Slowly, he twisted it, the door opening with a heavy groan. He took in his surroundings carefully. Nothing seemed visibly wrong until eyes caught the light flakes of green and pink that clung, dried, to the edge of the tub. Then the stench hit him. Vomit._ Damnit. _He turned from the room, sharp on his heels, not bothering with the light or the running faucet. Leaving her bedroom he half jogged down the hall, coming to a jarring stop as he reached the end.

Knees to chest in the middle of her apartment, rocking back and forth, her head down against her knees, hair splayed lightly over her pale neck sat Temperance Brennan. Over looking the room he discovered she had moved every piece of furniture in the kitchenette/living room, with the exception of the heavy CD and bookshelf, to the outer walls of the apartment, maximizing the room's size.

"Temperance…?"

"My room was too small. _This_ room is too small." She didn't lift her head but the rocking slowed to a stop. "He kept my in this Box, this tiny plastic…thing…" Her head shook slightly against her knees. He crossed the room to her form, his steps careful and precise. Felling him sit on the hard floor next to her she looked up, her eyes dark with fear and sleep loss. "I hate being this weak."

"How long have you been out here?"

"I don't know." She answered, her head moving back an forth once again. "Not long enough."

He looked to her open bedroom door then to the grey eyes that had followed his gaze. For a moment her eyes held the door wholly, her pale pink lips beginning to move once again.

"I feel like an imbecile. It's as though I'm a child, afraid of her bedroom because she thinks the boogeyman awaits her, lurking in her closet."

Her gaze fell onto the green cast that covered her right foot and ankle. Before they ah delft the Jeffersonian all of the squints had signed it, Angela's signature being the most artistic as she had quickly drawn an intricately designed heart across the cast where the bridge of Brennan's foot would have been. Right now it was all Brennan wanted to focus on, ashamed of her fear. She recalled how hard it had been to stay in the hospital. She had woken up nearly every night, screaming for him to let her go, or to stop hurting her, or biting her lips so hard the pain awakened her, small red stains tainting the crisp white of the hospital's pillow. She hated feeling frightened, feeling like a trapped mouse. Her hospital room hadn't been anywhere near Bailey's; In fact she had checked on it, discovering he was in a totally different wing, but she still felt like he was watching her, looking her over in search of another Bone to break, another patch of skin to rip open.

"Where are your crutches?" his voice broke through the image of Dr. Bailey, backlit, hose in hand, an enormous, crooked smile spreading over his face.

"The couch."

He looked over and sure enough a pair of battered wooden crutches rested on the couch, light trails on the floor indicating its recent move. His eyes flowed over the crutches smoothly though the wood was dented from miss-use. His eyes moved slowly to above the couch where he found the window open, looking around he noticed its peers to be the same.

"You opened the windows."

"I needed some air." Her voice came out flat and monotone. "This is completely irrational." Her head didn't move but now disgust was evident in her voice.

"Bones, this guy tortured you in an enclosed environment; it's completely rational to be claustrophobic." He wanted to rub her back but refrained. It would have been an awkward gesture between the two.

"No, the claustrophobia is justified." She turned and looked at him, her almost clear eyes piercing in the bright light of the room. They seemed like pools of liquid, a thin thread of composure kept the droplets still. "I meant the fear of him coming back for me. He isn't dead Booth, just pissed off."

He looked at her questioningly. The claustrophobia was justified? She looked away from him. "El Salvador, Have you wondered why I can fight?"

"I figured it was to keep in shape." She shook her head sad looking. "Angela's the only one who knows. I was kidnapped in El Salvador. They were police officers. I was kept in a jail cell for a few days with a bag pulled over my head. They kept telling me they were going to kill me. That's why I'm claustrophobic, part of it anyway, why I can't deal with small spaces. All I could think of this time was El Salvador, the feeling I had. It felt just like El Salvador, except I could see my captor, I could fight back….But he had the advantage. He wasn't crammed into a box or a tiny room, he could _breathe._"

The thread that held up the flood gates began to fray.

"He would….Hit me, and I wouldn't be able to move away in the little room. He would press me up against one wall and it felt like my feet were touching the opposite."

She opened her mouth to speak once more but said nothing, just looked away fro him to the wall, letting her gaze slip to the ground, the thread snapping as thick tears spread across her pale cheeks. Wiping them away with the palm of her right hand, her bandaged wrist limp at her side, she sniffed, then coughed as though to dismiss the subject and regain her distant exterior. Locking her heart back into the box in which it belonged.

The pools remained but not another droplet dared to slip over. "_Him _coming back for me is completely irrational. I mean He's still in the hospital. It's entirely idiotic to be this frightened of my own shadow."

"Bones weather you ant to believe it or not, you're not the 'Woman of steel.' You're allowed to be scared." He inched closer, awkwardly raising his hand to her hair, stroking it. She flinched visibly as her mind shot back to when Bailey had cut it.

"_Your hair is so beautiful Ms. Brennan, so thick." He reached foreword and pulled her head roughly to the side, the wound from the crash making her head swim. _

"_How should we cut it?" she couldn't respond, the nerves in her abdomen jolting from their earlier shock. "Do you like mine?" he all but cocked a hip, twirling, showing every angle of his hair to her. Her eyes had grown wide. _

"_Too short huh?" he leaned foreword to reach her as she was seated against the wall of what he called her "Baby Room". Taking hold of brown tufts on each side of her head he first held them to her cheek bones, then lips, then finally just below her jaw line. Pulling his hand away from her hair he let his fingers caress her lips and cheek. She pulled away quickly, nearly letting out an involuntary shiver. _

"_Oh, you'll get used to me touching you Ms. Brennan. I promise." He lowered himself down to her level, his face inches from hers. As an aunt would he grabbed her cheek hard and shook, then pulled back the opposite hand, knocking her out cold with a single heavy, dizzying slap. _

Her hair had been cut by the time she had woken up, a camera flash bright in her newly opened eyes.

Booth had brought his hand to rest in his lap and watched her intently.

"Bones?"

He reached to gather her in his arms, his hands moving softly over her shoulders. She began to panic, her breath quickening, her palms flattening against his hard chest with force. He loosened his grip on her and she calmed, though his hands still remained on her shoulders.

"It's just me Bones, you're safe. I promise, you're safe."

Bones. The bastard hadn't called her Bones. Her eyes closed as she stiffly and awkwardly leaned back against his chest. Laying his head forewords, comfortable atop hers, he closed his own.

_**You're safe…**_

A/N: I felt this wasn't quite as predictable as the dream but still got the point across. I hope you enjoyed it!


	11. Let the eggs warm your soul

Disclaimer: I do not own theses characters, though Fox, Josephson Entertainment, Far Field Productions and Kathy Reichs do.

Angela Montenegro knocked once, knocked twice, knocked three times. All of which remained un-answered. The groceries she held were beginning to become heavy and irritation began to rise in her stomach. Thankfully Tempe had given her a spare key in case of emergencies. Digging the key ring from her purse she looked somewhat like a circus act, balancing three full grocery bags on one hip, juggling the keys in the other hand searching for the short silver etching she knew would open the door that sat before her. She knew they were home; they being Brennan and the tease of an FBI Agent, Booth, his car parked downstairs, Bren's useless as it was practically still wrapped around the tree she had hit. She thought about them together as a couple, imagined what their kiss had been like from what Tempe had told her.

She smiled as an inappropriate thought tangoed slowly across her mind. Now _that _would be a good reason to not answer the door. Shifting the correct key into her grip she slid it into its hole, the lock clicking as she turned the key.

"Lucy! I'm-" she stopped her tongue as she took in the heap of limbs that lay on the floor of the now odd looking apartment. Her best friend lay in a fetal position; half curled up, half on her chest, her head lying on its side in the crook of her right arm, her chest, shoulders and head resting in the lap of the FBI.

Leaning on her left shoulder, his lips dangerously close to her ear, his left arm wrapped around her waist, his right curving gently around the arm upon which she rested her head slouched FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth. His legs were crisscrossed Indian style and had to be asleep under his and Brennan's weight.Anglea couldn't help but smile, her mind doing a victory dance for her friend. They looked like two children, their eyes closed tight in sleep.

Setting the groceries down soundlessly she began to search for a frying pan. "Damn, Tempe, do you cook anything?" So far she had found nothing but a cabinet of paper plates and glasses, and a near empty silverware drawer. Finally finding what she had been looking for she turned on the small white stove, readying the pan to cook scrambled eggs for the three of them.

Suddenly the lump of Brennan and Booth shifted, sleepy blue eyes beaming, followed by a set of brown.

"Ange?" Tempe's voice croaked, she had yet to register the weight that rested on her shoulders.

"Good morning. I can see why you turned down my place sweetie, I just don't snuggle like Booth does."

Temperance didn't know what her friend meant until she felt the breathing on her ear, and weight lift as he began to sit up.

"What do you mean?" his voice came from just behind her head. Feeling his left hand near her hip bone, his other close to her right hand, she bolted up quickly, the back of her head connecting with his strong jaw.

"Ow…" she closed her eyes tightly, hand going to the back of her ducking head. He did the same, his fingers massaging his chin gingerly.

It was then that they both seemed to notice how close they were together, Brennan's arm still resting on Booth's thigh, his chest pressed against her right shoulder blade. Angela almost expected them to scurry away from each other. Almost. Instead Brennan seemed to fall into a coughing fit, Booth pulling his hands from her and into the air in surrender. The coughing fit immediately ceased. Angela just looked on quietly, smiling as Brennan, getting her good foot underneath herself, used his shoulder to stand, wobbling slightly as he mimicked the action, holding her steady as he himself stood.

"Uhm, what are you doing here Angela?" she shook her head. "Not that your not welcomed, but don't you have to be at the Jeffersonian?"

"Hun, its Saturday."

"Oh…"

"Besides, I wouldn't have missed that for the world."

"What? We were only sleeping." She tried to shrug off the sense of how comfortable she had been in his arms.

"Yea…on top of each other." She smiled coyly, widening her eyes then focusing on Brennan.

"Angela!"

Booth chirped in now. "What can I say Angela? The ladies love me." He mirrored her smile as he watched the blue eyes roll. He felt cold now that Bones wasn't pressed against him. He found himself missing the feeling. _Your partners Booth. No…not _just _partners, friends. But that's it. For God sake, you're the reason the bastard got her in the first place. _He watched as Brennan attempted a crutch-less step foreword, her nose scrunching in pain as she failed miserably.

"Booth can you get my crutches?"

"Yes, your highness." He received a dirty look and half smile from his partner.

"Please?" Nodding he moved to them.

"Hunny, we need to get you a cane when you get the walking cast on." Angela commented from the kitchen. "Bren, your stove sucks." She looked up from the barely heated pan to the man and woman standing barely inches apart as Temperance took the crutches, her head down in their close proximity, placing the padded wood under her arms. Booth stood over her, tender looking with his head down as hers was, watching her movements.

"Oh my God, will you two just kiss already!"Angela slammed her hand onto her hip, the other holding the buttery spatula hit the counter, nearly shooting the creamy substance onto the ceiling. They both looked like little girls just asked to eat a worm.

"Just a suggestion" she smiled and went back to the pan, Tempe crutching over as Booth made his way to her room. In only a minute or two he was out, fully dressed in his usual attire; a suit and tie, pulling his jacket on as he entered. Both women looked up as he approached the kitchenette; all the while he checked the gun in his shoulder holster. Angela had finally gotten the eggs to cook and was digging paper plates out of the cupboard. He directed his words to his partner.

"Bones, do you think you'll be alright here with Angela while I'm out?"

She blinked, nodding. "I don't see why not, I'm a big girl Booth, I can take care of myself."

The tension was killing Angela. "Booth, aren't you hungry? I made some eggs for you to."

"Good. Make sure she eats them." He pointed to Bones as his hand met the metal of the door handle. It twisted then slammed and he was gone. Brennan looked from the door to her Cheshire-smile armed friend. "So….?"

"So nothing. Nothing happened Ange. I got scared and he comforted me, held me close to calm me down and we just fell asleep…" She didnt looked down at the plate her friend set in front of her. "That's it." Shepushed it back slightly. "Thanks Angela but I'm not very hungry." She stood with the crutches, ready to go change.

"Bren, sweetie, you need to eat something."

"I'm fine Angela, really." Her friend looked at her suspiciously. "I'll eat a big lunch, I promise." She attempted a convincing smile.

"Don't BS me Hunny." Her friend looked at her seriously. "You _have _to eat an _enormous_ lunch." Smiling, Brennan stood and crutched to her room.

Finally in her room she found it smelled like Booth, like his cologne, like his own personal scent; Ode de Seeley she mused. It wasn't a bad smell; it was warm…like his embrace. She shook her head lightly and closed her eyes. From the moment she had stepped in she felt like she was in a box. _This is ridiculous. _Making it to her closet she opened it, opening her eyes only to search for an outfit. She found a knee length, flow-y, white skirt, and an olive green, ¾ sleeved Henley. She looked almost engulfed in the clothes. After slipping on a single brown boot she moved to the bathroom putting on a chunky wooden necklace and pale green earrings. She stood, pulling her hair up, her eyes locked on themselves in the mirror of her bathroom. She didn't like what she saw.

She looked weak, broken, her face still bruised, her left wrist bandaged tenderly and her fingers nearly raw from fighting back. Taking in a deep breath she closed her eyes, reopening them to a new face in the mirror, bright green eyes staring and boring into her chest, a wicked, yellowed smile gleaming against tan skin and blond hair. Her back slammed into the open bathroom door, the cords of her neck stressing as she sucked in air.

Angela rushed into the room with the sound of the door slamming into the wall, finding her friend pressed against the wall by her own will and breathing heavier than usual.

"Bren?" Her eyes were huge and seemed to have darkened since she had spoken with her minutes before. Her blue eyes were locked on the mirror a moment then shot to her friends as she heard the front door open and slam shut a familiar weight distribution sounding as he walked through her apartment.

Boothentered the room as they exited its bathroom. "Bones he's dead."

"Wait. What? Who's dead?"

"Doctor Benjamin Bailey died about five minutes ago from a heart attack."

Her jaw fell slack, her eyes un focused, her mind taking in what he had just told her. She wanted to scream, cry, celebrate, fall limp, and throw a tantrum all at once. He was dead, the bastard who had scared her witless, had died of a measly heart attack. He had nearly beat her to deathbut hadfound his end in a few sticky blood cells. Then odd guilt hit her like a wave. She didn't want anyone to die…just be punished. She feltawkward wishing more had happened to him to bring him to his death bed.

"They want you to go check on the body." His voice hit her like a ton of bricks.

"You're kidding." Her eyes now focused on his face for the first time since he had come in. Perspiration lightly condensed then danced down his forehead. He had gotten the call on his way out, skipping the elevator back up and making a long run up the four levels of stairs. He shook his head lightly, Angela's eyes now as wide as her own.

"They can't have her do that, not after what he did to her." _So she told you, _he thought, feeling slightly betrayed though he knew they were best friends and probably shared things he couldn't even imagine they knew or felt.

"They want you there in an hour; I don't want you to go Bones."

"Me either Tempe, this cant be good for you."

"Why do they want me there?" she asked looking Booth straight in the eyes.

"They want to compare your wounds to those he received when you fought back."

"Can't they do that without me there? I've had pictures taken of my wounds and I'm sure they did the same for him."

"They want to know who caused what wounds."

Her eyebrow rose. "Who else attacked him?"

"An orderly was fired the day after you and Bailey arrived for attacking the good doctor. The orderly apparently was a fan of your book and medical work and took the opportunity to make Bailey pay for what he did to you." Both of the women before him stared, amazed. "The guy was apparently a _big _fan; I'm surprised he didn't get you to sign a bed pan or something."

"So they want me to tell them what wounds I created?" he nodded his head to her.

"Ok…" she sighed looking down. "Then I'll do it."

"Bren, are you sure you can handle this now?"

Brennan's eyes shot to Angela, glittering with determination and independence.

"I work with dead people everyday, what makes this so different? He's no longer a psychopath; he's flesh, skin and bones, nothing more. I can handle that, I have for the whole of my career."

Booth and Angela exchanged looks.

"I'm not so sure you should Bones."

"It's my choice, and I want to do this." He nodded, his hands sliding into his pant's pockets. "Fine." He sighed "I'll give you a ride."

"I'm coming too." Angela butt in, her arms crossed over her chest, her deep brown eyes darting between the two. Booth nodded his head. Leaving the room he called to Angela as he slipped through Brennan's bedroom door. "Still have some eggs left?"

"On the counter." She called back, her eyes never leaving her friend. "I can't believe your going to do this sweetie."

"I feel like I need to Ange, like it's my duty."

"You don't have to do _anything_."

"I know…but this is…proof to me. Proof he's gone, that he can't find me again."

"Aw, Bren." Her friend held her tight in a hug now, then pulled away, her hands holding onto Temperance's shoulders in a reassuring squeeze. "With Booth, or me, or the squints, with the _law_ he wasn't going to find you again, he was going to rot on his ass in a jail somewhere Tempe." She tried a weak smile. "Come on, let's go help booth finish off your eggs."

They both stepped from the room, a chill falling over Temperance as though she had been touched by the spirit of cold himself. His fingers laced through her hair, walking gently like little men down her neck and spine, reaching her stomach and wrapping his frozen arms around her mid drift. She would rather stay in the cold embrace than face the dead body of her captor, of the bringer of heat; the devil himself.

A/n: Soooo sorry it took so long. I hit writers block for the first time in this entire fic, so I'm not really liking this chapter, but please tell me what you thought of it. Hope you enjoy. Sorry if the sleeping position is hardto understand,but if you do get it, hopefully its really cute.


	12. Etch the gaze into your back Revised

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to fox, Josephson Entertainment, Kathy Reichs and Far Field Productions.

Wet and sticky, the substance clear but as thick as sewage slime. It coated the dark swirls and contrasting peach, the gloss sliding down bumps and curves then meeting soft fabric. She shouldn't have worn the quarter-sleeved shirt. The morgue was cool but she was melting in her clothes, her skin glassy, shirt dampening as her hand twitched against the soft, cold metal. The air within the corridor seemed to retract then pound down in her, retract then pound, retract then pound. The mantra in her head followed the rhythm. _He's dead, he cant do shit, he's dead, he can't do anything… _she could feel Booth and Angela's eye boring into her back as she twisted the handle, a petit blond mortuary technician standing by her side. She put enough tension into her arm to snap a three inch metal wire just to keep it from shaking flimsily.

Thoughts ran through her mind like racehorses. _Why the hell am I dong this? Was he really dead? How badly had the orderly beaten him? Was he recognizable? Would he suddenly come to life, dragging her into the dark room once more as he did in her dreams? _No, he wasn't going to do anything; he was dead. She didn't care how badly the orderly had hurt him. Yes, he was really dead. Why the hell was she doing this…she had no idea.

Taking in one last, deep, lung filling breath that made her bones and muscles ache, she twisted her bruised wrist, the door gliding open easily though it seemed heavy. She instantly was accustomed to the smell; chemicals and a sweet, coppery smell. Death and cleansing. Before her lay several examinations tables, all of which were covered with a thick white sheet, feet and toes standing erect against the cloth. The first was too small to be Bailey, more than likely a teenage female as mammary growth had yet to start. The second could have been him, the sheet bulky as a man or very large woman lay under it. The third could have also been him, thought the feet looked small. _Let's see what's behind curtain number three. _She thought as the mortuary technician walked to it gloved hands wrapping around the edge of the sheet.

* * *

They both stood just beyond the observation window in front of which family members, witnesses or victims were taken to identify the deceased. Beyond the window now were two sets of watchful eyes, both of which were trained on her back. Booth and Angela watched silently, their thoughts both glued to Brennan and how she would react once the sheet was removed. Angela's teeth found comfort in her lower lip as she chewed away at it, her hands crossed over her chest. Booth looked almost the same, thought there was no lip chewing in his case, instead there was finger tapping. _God Bones, you don't have to do this. _He watched as the petit blond said something to Temperance then began to lift the bright white sheet.

* * *

"Are you ready Ms. Brennan?" the blond asked, her deep brown eyes trailed on Brennan's piercing grey. She nodded slightly, her breath catching as the edge of the white began to reveal a pale yellow color that dangled short and in thin strips, then onto a pale fleshy color. Soon a light rouge began to appear under a set of pale lids that swelled over the contents which they concealed. She could almost see the bright, heartless green shining through the pale beige. He hadn't been dead long enough to loose total color. Then down to a blood crusted, scarred nose and onto a pair of bluing almost glassy lips, furthering down lay a thick, bruised neck. The whit peeled back further and she felt her knees wobble and thanked a higher power that she had crutches.

* * *

Angela had ignored the revealing of the body, her eyes focused intently on Brennan, scanning up and down her back as muscles tensed and legs wobbled. Booth struggled to keep both Brennan and her captor in focus but was having a great deal of difficulty as he had wanted to rush in and pull her out of the damn little room.

* * *

The cloth moved further down his body revealing a toned abdominal section and two bruised arms, a large scrape mark spreading across the muscles of his chest. Next to be exposed were thick arms and hands, one missing its first, middle, and ring fingers. She sucked in a shallow breath as the hand was exposed. She could see the missing fingers lying beside her broken ankle, bloodying the floor of the tan kitchen as she finally rested, finally took a split second to breathe. That's as far as the sheet went. For now, she knew, for she had caused damage to his legs when tripping him. The nurse looked at her expectantly, as did the tall redheaded doctor that had entered the room with them.

"I um, I caused all damage to the nose…there uhh…there should be…" _Pull it together Brennan! You work with dead bodies all the time! This isn't any different, he's just a lump of unloving, soul less flesh…_he seemed to have been that before death. A shiver ran down her spine. "There should be a large bump, bruise or area of concussion at the uhh the base of…." Her eyes caught his face and stayed there, her knees wobbling even more now, her head spinning as images of him filled her mind, her stomach doing jumping jacks in the way it didn't with Booth; in the bad way.

"Base of his neck," she continued, "There should be, unless they were cleaned, skin and dried blood particles under the nails of his fingers…its mine."

"Dr. Brennan may we?"

* * *

Booth and Angela both seemed to shift when the watched the redheaded doctor ask Brennan a question, who in turn nodded, handed over her crutches and proceeded to remove her t-shirt.

Her back faced them and the sight produced a slack jaw for them both. Across the pale, femininely muscular back were long, thin strips of red and purple. The most prominent and first four in a row slipped down the top of her shoulder, moving like strings of ribbon down and over her shoulder blade, under a black bra closure, over a very obvious rib cage and onto the right dimple of her lower back. The next grouping went from just below the base of her neck and moved off to the left and over to just below the edge of her bra.

A third group, these were purple and in a line of five, not four, moved from the left dimple of her lower back and over the other lengthy lines to her opposite shoulder, these marks causing severe, little circular scabs where it met the first four lines. They both looked on as she turned for the doctor, revealing to them her covered chest.

* * *

She stood facing the observation window with her head down, wishing her hair was loose from its closure and hanging around her cheeks. She knew they could see her, see them, her wounds. She wanted them to not exist; the wounds and her friends. She wanted no one but the doctor to know of what had truly happened to her. She hadn't even told Angela of these scars, these wounds that riddled her skin. But they had to be there, they supported her, though they made her feel weak. She didn't need their concern, their sympathetic stares and gestures.

* * *

Now it was Angela's knees turn to waver. Her eyes locked onto her best friend's chest. The entirety of her breast bone and what cleavage showed through her bra was darkened nearly to the exact color of the lace that covered her. Bruised and torn it looked as though someone had used her chest to clean out a chimney.

Booth's gaze danced along the deep purple, down along prominent ribs and onto a huge pink circle that rested on her muscled, yet thin abdomen. _The burn mark in her shirt from the picture _he thought, his own abdomen clenching as he looked at the wound. _Why weren't her wounds bandaged?_ He remembered her going into her room alone, leaving Angela and himself to speak of anything other than what she was to face in but a few minutes. He pulled his eyes away as a deep grey gaze met his. She looked ashamed of herself, of her wounds. Ashamed that she couldn't have stopped them from appearing on her milky skin.

* * *

Her eyes then caught Angela's, deep puddles pooling in the brown as well as her own grey. _This is ridiculous, absolutely idiotic Brennan _she thought, though she could not come up with an explanation as to why. She had betrayed her friend and she knew it. Looking at her tear struck friend she mouthed the words "I'm so sorry Ange."

Angela hadn't known of the wounds, of the exact paint he man had put Temperance through, and now she knew her friend had lied to her about it. "She didn't…I can't believe she lied to me. She didn't tell me about those." She shook her head, a tear rolling down her cheek heavily.

Seeing her friends reaction Brennan stared hard at the cold linoleum floor. Turning back around to find the redhead and blond staring at her with wide eyes she replaced her shirt sorely. "Is that all you need?" she choked out, her voice catching as her throat constricted against the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

"No." she blond stated bluntly, though her eyes seemed sympathetic.

"Did you cause the bruising to the ankles and back? Just at the base of the rib cage." The redhead butted in, a small clipboard of paper resting in the crook of her arm.

"Yes."

"Then that's all we need. Thank you Dr. Brennan."

"Thank you." She took back the crutches from the morgue technician and turned her hand meeting with the cool metal once again. Twisting it seemed like more of an effort than it did before hand. She didn't want to face the Agent and her friend. She had lied to both of them to save her independence and their consciences. Not looking up as the door swept open she was consumed by something warm and gentle, something familiar. Holding onto her for dear life in a huge embrace was Angela, teary eyed and sniffling.

"Angela I'm so sorry I lied to you, I didn't want you to…." Her friend just squeezed harder, her back jumping with the release of a slight sob.

"I understand sweetie, but don't you _ever _do that again."

Brennan felt like a child who had wandered off by herself and gotten lost, her mother grasping her hard, grateful that she had been found, but reprimanding her for disappearing in the first place.

"Ange?" she smiled, her friend removing her resting head from Brennan's shoulder with a look of puzzlement on her face. "I can't breath." Letting go, but not quite totally Angela smiled back. Brennan's gaze caught a pair of shy brown eyes from above her friends shoulder. He looked infuriated and saddened all at once. Angela's eyes followed her gaze and rested on booth.

"I'll be in the car sweetie." As though just now recalling the cuts and bruises Angela gave her another squeeze this one light and gentle, and left, her heals clicking down the hall towards the elevator. Facing Booth full on, Temperance's gaze could not stay intact with his. She took the first move in their game of silent chess. Taking a crutch closer to him, then another she stood barely a foot from him, each of their views locked on the ground.

"Booth…" his gaze moved up and met hers as it too moved up. The look in which their eyes locked was shy and blind to judgment. Leaning down to her, his lips met hers with delicacy, the softness mirroring that of their first kiss. He could smell her, taste her. Her eyes closed against his touch as the kiss deepened slightly, his hand moving to support the base of her neck as her knees wobbled for a new reason. They pulled away together, the kiss not too strong as they both could still breathe properly. Her eyes were now focused, fully content, on his. She smiled lightly.

"Come on Bones, Angela's waiting in the car." he smiled as well, a look of care shining in the depth of his gaze. Nodding she readied her crutches and walked beside him, his gate small to keep in line with her. They exited together, the heat of the kiss red on each of their cheeks.

The blond technician watched the woman and man as they left together. Their kiss had been slight but comfortable; as though they had done it plenty of times before, like it was second nature. But she knew it wasn't. Covering the body as the doctor exited she smiled wickedly to herself.

_Poor Doctor Brennan._

A/n: I hope you enjoyed…as I always do. I'm sorry if the scratch descriptions were vague or confusing in any way. Best wishes.


	13. I can't see nothin' at all

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I know who does; Fox, Kathy Riechs, Josephson Entertainment and Far Field Productions.

It spiraled down at them with force, thick and clear. It smashed into all objects available to its touch, its slippery caress chilly as it fell from its graying homeland. The drops seemed to increase in size the longer they stayed sheltered, as though mocking them. She sat, chin cupped in her hand, looking out of the window, nearly clear grey eyes locked on the droplets that clung to the cool glass, sliding down to grow larger and drop off onto the quickly passing asphalt.

Angela had called a taxi, wanting to go back to her own apartment for a while. She left them with a smile and a small wink to Brennan. Now Booth and Brennan drove in a calm, comfortable silence. She thought of how her parents would feel about her current situation. How they would have reacted to her physical conditions. But she had no idea. They weren't around. No one was around; except for Booth. Angela too…but it wasn't the same. If Booth wasn't there she didn't know what she would do. She turned from the cool window to look at him. His features looked hard but crisp, as though he had just woken up from a bad dream. He eyed her from the corner of his browns, flecks of green igniting throughout the orbs in the disappearing sun's rays.

Lying her head heavily back against the seat's head rest she closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. It must have caught his attention for his hand now rested on hers. Lifting her head to look at him she was greeted with a soft smile.

"Go ahead and sleep, you had a rough morning Bones." His hand went back to the wheel.

Smiling and nodding slightly she tipped her head back again, wanting to pull her knees to her chest but unable to in the vehicle. Slowly her eye lids slipped shut, her breathing steadying in sleep, though her head bobbed up in down as it began to fall, heavy, towards her chest. Pulling over to the side of the road Booth leaned over her small frame gently and took hold of the base of her neck. Reaching over her, her body heat flowing to his chest, he reached for the handle that would move the seat. Finding it he moved the seatback into an angle and eased her gently back into a lying position. Feeling warm breath on his neck and ear he heard her whisper a breathless "Thank you" her cheek lightly nuzzling his hand as he released her neck. He took one last look at her half sleeping, tender, bruised features and pulled back onto the road.

She awoke two hours later on the couch of her lab, her crutches laid before her on the ground. Forgetting her wrist she attempted to use it as a medium of sitting up, her shoulder slamming back onto the couch as she grabbed the entirety of the bandage in her right hand, sucking in breath between clenched teeth. _Shit shit shit._ Regaining her composure she sat up, using her right hand this time to lift herself in to the position. Suddenly the overwhelming sent for coffee filled her nostrils, igniting a small rumbling in her stomach and a watering at the back of her throat. As though on cue Booth stepped into the office, two steaming cups held in his hand, a case file held in the other.

"Good morning Sunshine." His smile was broad and almost mocking, but not quite.

"You have coffee." She asked more than stated, her smile her greeting in place of words. Handing it to her he lifted his chin towards her desk. An attached tibia patella and femur, a shattered pelvic girdle and several phalanges found in an abandoned, swamp like swimming pool sat atop the smooth surface. She had left them at work the day she stormed out.

"Any luck with those before you left?" he asked sitting down across from her, the folder resting on his knees.

"Mm, no. I know she was a female. Age I can't tell from how little we have, nor canI tell race." She paused shaking her head lightly and taking a sip of the warm liquid. "I can tell you she was a dancer though…Ballet."

His eyebrows went up.

"There wear on her Patella and where her Tibia would have attached to her Talus, or ankle bone, most likely caused by the long use of Point shoes. She had to have been a dancer for over eleven years."

"You can tell all of that from wear on a bone?"

"Yes."

"Your something Bones." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then gathered the mug into both hands once more, unsure of how to start.

She could tell in an instant what he was about to ask her, her heart beating harder in her chest every second he hesitated.

"It was right after I stormed out of the Jeffersonian," she started, gripping her hands until her knuckles were white. "I was going to my car when Baileys topped me, trying to comfort me. He pulled out a cloth and chloroform. I fought back and broke his nose. That's when I called you." He nodded his head lightly, his eyes caught in the black reflection of his coffee.

"I was angry so I sped off. I guess I must have gotten more than a whiff of the chloroform because I had fallen asleep at a four way. I swerved to miss a car when I heard its horn and I slammed into a tree. The next thing I remember is waking up in a box." He listened patiently as she explained the events of her three day disappearance, meeting her eyes only when she began to introduce the game.

" He started it the day he kidnapped me. He told me the rules before the first time. He could hit me once for every scream he caused, or that I let out. He could use anything he wanted to as a weapon. I could fight back all I wanted, but if I took a breath to continue a scream, it would be counted as two." Her eyes went to the floor and her face began to pale.

"The first time we 'Played' he promised to only hit me six times…said it was only fair. So he did…with a belt. I took a breath four times; screamed all six hits." Her eyes met his in a sad glare.

"Next game was that night. He had ten hits. I screamed eight times. Third time came early in the morning the next day. I eventually controlled my self to the point where I only screamed once." Her eyes left his and fluttered down to her ankle.

"He pinned my ankle down against the floor and smashed it with a garden hose…" she watched as he grimaced almost unnoticeably.

"Holy shit Bones."

"I didn't scream." She smiled an awkward half grin at him. "I almost bit through my lip, but I didn't scream. It pissed him off to no end. So he took it out on my wrist and I fought back. I got away from him and attacked him with a meat tenderizer."

"What about his fingers?"

"Shut them in a door."

"Oh…" he sat back in his chair, his elbows moving from his thighs to his sides as he crossed his arms.

"I got up the stairs somehow, found keys and got into the yard. I walked awhile on my ankle but collapsed and crawled. Then Angela found me." She paused, subconsciously rubbing her thumb over her fingertips, needing to feel something familiar, something normal. "I guess you know the rest."

Leaning foreword gently he reached to her, stopping her thumb as he took her hand into his own, finger entwined and warm.

"Thank you Bones." He smiled sadly. Moving from his chair he sat next to her on the couch, his thumb now rubbing the back of her hand. Leaning against him she allowed her eyes to close, a great weight lifted off of her chest.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, I just…I don't know…I didn't want you to worry for me, or to think I couldn't take care of myself."

"Bones, I was going to worry anyway, and I know you can take care of yourself. You make it obvious every chance you get."

She sat up. "I do not." Her eyes twinkled with what seemed to be relief.

"My ass you don't Bones. You're like G.I. Jane in a lab coat."

"I don't know what that means."

Her back shook as a slight chuckle erupted from his throat. "You don't need to."

"Whatever." she smiled up at him, sitting away from him and reaching for her crutches. "I want to go home and sleep in my own bed for a whole night."

"Sounds good to me."

"Is your comforter warm?" she asked, standing.

"_Your_ house Bones."

"Only if we stop by the store first."

"What for?" he looked at her quizzically as he retrieved their coats, exiting the labs.

"Some Mint chocolate chip ice-cream. If I recall correctly a gun wielding lunatic made me waste half a pint last time I had any." Turning to smile at him she was caught up in his eyes. They were tender and softened as he met her gaze.

"Then we'll celebrate over a few pints." his hand found the small of her back as they left the building, each with a smile plastered across their face, each happy and content with each other.

A/n: Meant to be a revelation and cuteness. But more is to come. I hope you enjoyed it and I'm sorry it's so late, hit a speed bump the size of Kansas.


	14. Between A hot guy and a hard place

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Kathy Riechs, Far Field productions, Fox and Josephson Entertainment.

Thick and loud it boomed into her ears, the lights flashing in sync with the sound, huge, wall-planted boxes booming to life and emitting an airy feminine voice. She sat alone at the bar, a dark red, thickly strapped tank-top draping her scarred shoulders. She watched as Booth and Angela took off into the crowd, each finding a partner to dance with. Everything had gone back to normal since the night she told Booth. She was back in the lab now, glad to be working, and there were no more kisses, maybe an almost knowing smile every once in a while, but no contact. She had already identified the remains of the young girl found in the swimming pool. Melanie Griffith, a college freshman at the University of Tennessee, majoring in literature. They had yet to discover who killed her.

Closing her eyes she rubbed her temples against the loud beat. She couldn't dance, not that she wanted to, even if she had gotten her walking cast on. She was still semi-dependent on a cane and couldn't possibly dance if she tried. Two months. It had been two months since she was kidnapped and attacked; two long, tiresome months. She smiled as she opened her eyes, meeting Angela's gaze as she waved, pointing Brennan out to her dance partner. He smiled and waved as well. When his back was facing her Angela gave her s thumbs up after pointing at her partner's back. Brennan's smile widened. This signal meant he was a keeper. Her eyes searched the crowd for booth eventually finding him with a tall, leggy blond. _Of course _Brennan though almost cynically.

She watched as Booth's hand went to the woman's hip to keep her close as they danced. Why had she agreed to come along with them? Suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulder, a tall dark haired man with intense green eyes staring down at her. This is why.

"How much does a polar bear weigh?" he asked, his voice smooth and tenor.

She smiled up at him, meeting his gaze.

"I don't know…" she did. The female average was about 660 pounds, the male average 1,200 pounds.

"Enough to break the ice," he smiled. "Hey, my names Donavan."

"I'm Tempe. Pleased to meet you…Does that work often?"

"What the pick up line? No, but you seemed like a polar bear type of woman." His smile broadened and he called the bar tender.

"What'll you have?" he asked, taking a seat next to her.

"An ice tea."

"The lady'll have a hard ice tea."

"No, just an ice tea please."

"You don't go for the drink?"

"Nope, I don't take alcohol very well."

"Suit yourself. I'll have a Black Russian on the rocks."

Before either could continue, a bouncy Angela and her dance partner sidled up to the bar, occupying the seats next to them.

"Hey Tempe, who's the babe?" she held hands with her dance partner, who ordered drinks as she spoke with her friend.

"Oh, Ange this is Donavan, Donavan this is my best friend, Angela."

"Pleased to meet you" he chirped smiling his greeting. "Now that's what I want to do." He nodded his head to the dancers on the floor. "Shall we?" he asked, taking hold of Brennan's hand just as the bar tender brought their drinks.

"Oh, hunny, she can't"

He peeked an eyebrow.

"Cast. I broke my ankle a few months ago, its not quite back in dancing condition yet." she explained as the song switched and the music's volume increased.

She lifted her leg slightly and pulled up the pant leg, revealing a new light yellow walking cast. Frowning he looked back up at her.

"That's a shame, I would have enjoyed it."

"We'll I think were going to right now." Angela's date spoke up. His partner gave her friend a wink and they took off onto the floor, beer bottles held in hand.

"Your not going to ditch me now, are you, since I can't dance?" She paused and exhaled. "Wow that sounded clingy."

"No, it didn't. And no, I think I'll sit and have a few drinks with a pretty woman."

Turning to face the dance floor on her stool he turned with her.

"So why are you here if you can't dance?" he asked with a half smile, lifting his shallow glass to his lips and sipping the dark alcohol.

"My friends dragged me here."

"Friends? Anymore of them like you?" he waggled his eyebrows in a Marx move.

It made her laugh. "Mmm nope, Angela's more of a free spirit and Booth…he's kind of uptight about stuff."

"He?" he asked, looking out onto the dance floor.

Brennan aided his search, pointing out the Agent in the crowd of moving bodies.

"Guy looks tough." He said nonchalantly. "So, how'd you break your ankle anway? You adventure woman or something?"

"I uhh…no, I..."

"Hey Bones." Saved by Booth, she sighed heavily.

"Hello Booth, Booth this is Donavan, Donavan, Booth." Booth must have seen her point him out to Donavan, for the leggy blond was dancing by herself at the moment. Both of the men eyed each other, sizing each other up.

Donavan held out his hand first.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

Booth didn't take it.

"Ready to go Bones?" Booth asked, meeting her angry gaze.

"Why does he call you Bones?" Donavan asked, obviously intent on keeping her there.

"My job, I'm an Anthropologist, forensic specifically."

"So you examine Bones?"

"That's right." Booth's voice turned stern. "She digs up dead people and studies them."

This derived an aghast stare from Brennan.

"I identify the remains of murder victims; it's more humane than how he makes it sound."

"That's cool. So you've proven my first assumption; Your an intelligent beauty." He used the words to prod Booth more than compliment Bones.

Booth grabbed her arm lightly, his fingers nearly encircling her upper arm.

"Let's go Bones."

"If you must…" Donavan padded his pockets and eventually found a sharpie-like pen. "May I?" he smiled as he took her cast into his hands, lifting her leg gently. Pulling up the pant leg of her jeans as she nodded she and Booth watched him sign her cast. Pushing the pant leg back down he pocketed the pen and grabbed her hand. "See you around Tempe, maybe next time we can dance."

With that Booth practically jerked her off of the bar stool. Following him with a slight limp she caught Angela's gaze who quickly whispered something to her dance partner, writing something down on the palm of his hand. She made her way towards them through the crowd, reaching them only when they were outside.

"What the hell is your problem Booth!" she watched as Brennan wriggled from his grasp. "I'm allowed to have a life!"

"That guy was a bastard! Did you see the way he was looking at you?"

"Men are allowed to look at me Booth! I've seen you look at me before! I've seen how you look at other women!"

"That's different Bones."

"Yea, I'm sure. So your allowed to dance so close to a woman its almost intimate but I cant even speak to a man who wants to be me a drink?"

"God do you two do nothing but fight?" Her voice came from behind them, both turning to see her with her hands crossed over her chest.

They both responded with a unison "Yes."

Rolling her eyes she linked arms with her friend. "Here, I'll take you home sweetie."

Booth watched as the two women took off in an opposite direction than he, neither uttering a goodbye as they made their way away from him. Shaking his head he unlocked the black queen Vic and opened the door. _Damn it Bones. _

She stood in front of her door, cane in one hand, keys in the other, her friend floating down to the first floor in the buildings elevator. Booth was such an ass sometimes. He was all testosterone and no brain when it came to her and other men. They weren't even together, had never been. Sure they had kissed, had held each other but nothing had really happened. He had been trying to comfort her nothing more, and she had been weak and willing to allow him to do so. There had been no chemistry or spark…or so she liked to tell herself. Throwing the door open she could smell it instantly. Smoke. Her throat tightened and her hands shook. Dropping the cane by the door she made it to the phone first, dialing Angela franticly.

Her friend was back up to her apartment in less than a minute. Tapping the ajar door open enough to fit in, she called for her friend worriedly. "Tempe?" she found her perched atop the counter top of her kitchen, picking at the phone number Donavan had signed into her cast. "Are you ok sweetie?"

"Yes." She looked towards her coffee pot. "I left the coffee machine on and put the pot in the sink. The excess coffee must have dripped onto the heating pad and burnt. I'm sorry I called you all the way back up here Angela."

"Its fine sweetie, I understand you're still a little freaked out."

"But I shouldn't be."

"Your right Hun, you shouldn't be, you're safe, he's gone and it's been for ever since he's been gone. No ones going to hurt you sweetie." She hugged her tightly, then pulled away. "I can stay if you want me to."

"Thanks Ange, but I'm ok. I think I'll manage. It was just a false alarm." She smiled as her friend said goodbye and made her way back down in the elevator.

_Just a false alarm…_

A/n: ok if it wasn't clear this is set two months after the attack. I hope you enjoyed, and thank you all for reviewing! I appreciate it!


	15. A deer in green headlights

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Far Field Productions, Fox, Kathy Riechs and Josephson Entertainment.

Hard and warm it hit her bare skin like a machine-gun launched bead. It felt good. It collided with her shoulders and fell into a thick stream, racing down the curves of her toned back and onto the hard floor of the bathtub. She sat under the thick stream, her right leg thrown over the side of the tub, tied tightly in a garbage bag. It wasn't a particularly attractive position but it worked. Who was going see her in the shower anyway? She mused. The name Seeley Booth floated through her mind. Of course not, she told herself in a mantra, though the thought continued to slow dance its way from one ear to the other behind her eyes. Shaking her head she absently washed the scar that slipped around her left wrist like a thick bracelet. It had faded some since the actual event due to a scar-fading cream she had bought, but it was still a prominent, pink band.

Her thoughts were stuck on Seeley's behavior at the bar earlier. Had it been jealousy? No…But maybe…Why would he be jealous? He had the leggy Blond right? _And every other woman within a proximity of six feet of him. _She thought, her own tinge of jealousy pocking at her. It was true. He seemed to have a certain magnetism, she being one of the many women who had felt it. She considered the idea of having her own magnetism. Magnetism or no, she had seemed to attract a few good guys in her life.

Her mind going back to the quickly filling tub, she found her fingers pruning in the moisture and leaning up, she shut off the water. The bathroom was plunged into a thick, drippy silence that coated the mirror and air as did the steam of heat. Taking in deep breaths she hooked each hand around the tub's sides, lifting herself up, right leg outstretched before her. Grabbing hold of the towel she wrapped it around herself, drying her left leg and waist, then removed the garbage bag from the cast. Staring up at her was Donavan's number. When would be too soon to call him? She wondered, using a small towel to dry her hair. Wiping the steam from the mirror she felt a shiver spiral up her back. Shaking it off she brought the towel to her underarms, twisting it beneath itself to keep it up, the smaller towel wrapped around her head like a fuzzy blue turban. Hobbling from the door she walked to her dresser, finding a pair of too-big pajama pants she had bought a few years ago. They were comfortable as hell. Digging further into the drawer for a tank top her hands froze as she felt it against her back.

It was a gaze. One that wanted to burn holes were its pupils met her skin. She could feel it graze roughly up and down her back, sticking to the scars that arose from the edge of her towel. She almost expected a "Hello Clarice." One of the few pop culture references she actually knew. Goosebumps seemed to storm from her toes, advancing towards her hips, then shoulders and neck. This wasn't happening.

Turning slowly she met the gaze. The green eyes beamed at her like headlights, her role the deer. He moved to stand. _For god sake move Bones move!_ This wasn't real. He was dead, she had seen his corpse, she had seen the pale color of his lips, his unmoving eyes, and his stilled chest. His pulse! She hadn't felt his pulse.

"This is a dream." She barely whispered. He took a step foreword, his good hand mingling with the body heat of her neck as he drew closer, her legs frozen to their spot on the carpet.

"No. But it's quite similar to a few I've had." His fingers closed tightly around the heat giving skin. Oh it was real. Her heart leapt into her throat, making it even harder to breath. She couldn't do anything with the condition she was in, both physically and mentally. She kept screaming at herself to wake up though she could feel the pressure of his fingers on her throat.

"Take your hair down." He demanded his voice close to her ear. Suddenly her eyes focused to find herself face to face with him. He noticed her glances.

"I trust you won't take a bite at my nose again." The fingers tightened a great deal. She began to gag. Taking hold of her wrist with his bad hand he lifted her own to the towel around her hair, making her pull it off, dark waves swirling down around her face. As he let go she felt the absence of his fingers, the remaining rubbing lightly against her skin.

"Now, I'll let go of you if you promise me one thing Temperance. One, single, little thing."

The idea sent a swirl of nausea up her back and full force into her stomach.

"Do. Not. Run." Her eyes widened with each word. He actually expected her not to? She coughed loudly against his face, nodding. He let go, letting her drop to her knees. Before they even hit the ground he had hold of her hair. It stung against the back of her skull, her scalp burning. Pulling her up into a kneeling position he allowed her a breath. Kneeling extremely close behind her, his hands made their way to the top of her towel.

"Now let me see the fruits of my labor."

"No, Please, no." was all she could manage. Her body began to freeze with fear, her hands barely reaching the towel as he yanked at it. Yanking it harder, he threw her forewords, exposing her as the towel remained in his tight fists. Lying before him in a ball he could see her scars, her still fading bruises; her pain. She lay before him naked and fragile, afraid and crying. They were glorious. The scars ran long and thin, though raised and bumpy. He noted her cast, her trembling legs and hips. He had never, to this day, seen something so beautiful as this woman's fear. Removing the knife from his pocket he lurched toward her bare back, his hands trembling almost as greatly as her naked form.

She felt his hand on her back before the first slit of a sting. She was in the room again, alone and tired, her limbs aching and fire burning in her throat. She was smashed between him and a wall or the floor, his hands grasping at her skin and bones. The second slit, the third slit. Four in total. He had re traced his first claw marks, retraced the first permanent physical marking he had given her. Throwing her the pajama pants she had taken out he told her to put them on. She did so thankfully, burling back into a ball as she pulled them up around her bare waist. Grasping her hips, the butt of the knife digging into the bone, he pulled her up hard, exposing her midsection and chest, his eye lingering a little too long on the latter. She stared up at him, almost defeated, her blood staining the carpet in parallel lines. Leaning over her his face drew close to her breasts then pulled back, following her neck to her chin, onto which he brought his fist hard.

"That, temperance is for the meat cleaver." He smiled over her, the hand containing the blade coming up to her chest. "And this, this is for my middle finger."

He dug the blade deep into the skin shielding her clavicle. It broke through quickly and struck bone. "Cheers." His smile broadened as he pulled the knife across the bone from neck to shoulder, cutting through thin layers of skin and muscle. She held her breath but was too weak to keep the scream contained, the sound bursting loud in her ears. He shuddered as the breath of the scream struck his face.

"That's my girl." She wanted to die, wanted the sweet freedom of emptiness to overcome her. She wanted everything to go dark. She didn't want to see anymore, didn't want to feel or be able to speak. She wanted to be nothing. But her heart wanted her to fight, wanted her to kill the son of a bitch who had come back for her. But she couldn't move. Her shoulder was beginning to bleed profusely the blood dripping down her pale skin and into her hair. _Fight back, fight back, fight back._ She thrust her head forewords, her forehead meeting his, disorienting him. Moving onto her hands and knees she crawled away from him, his heavy body pouncing on her and knocking her to the ground, her head striking it hard. Her vision blurred. Finally, sweet darkness.

He lay atop her small nearly-naked form, her breathing regulating and her eyes unopened. She was unconscious. Moving from atop her he grabbed her frail shoulders roughly and flipped her over. She was pale, her hair a dark contrast to her nearly translucent skin. He followed the curved of her body down her neck, to her chest, abdomen, hips, thighs and calves. She was a magnificent woman in both body and mind. Too bad she was going to die. Crawling over the length of her body her leaned against her bare chest, breathing in her scent. Knife poised, he leaned over her on his hands and knees, the knife's point aimed at the small dip between her collar bones.

Sudden and hard he was hit across the face, flying backwards over her legs. Regaining his balance he found himself face to face with the barrel of a hand gun.

"Get the fuck off of her." he heard a strong voice say, though the barrel occupied his vision at the moment. _Just who I've been looking for._

"If it isn't Special Agent Seeley Booth." A smile formed, revealing bloodied teeth from the first blow.

Seeley looked from the man to Bones, lying sprawled out, half naked on the ground, blood everywhere. He had to help her.

"Stand up." The order boomed in Bailey's ears. He followed them.

Standing, his smile only broadened as he met the man's eyes. Nearly a green like his own he knew they were not that different.

"Step around her." Brennan lay unconscious between the two of them, her body convulsing in pain, even in unconsciousness. He watched as the doctor made a move to step around her limp form. Stopping suddenly he kicked her hard in the abdomen, a loud popping sound made as her face contorted into a grimace.

The pop wasn't from her ribs. Booth watched it as though it was in slow motion. His gun fired hard in his fist, the bullet ripping into Bailey's chest as he fell to the ground. Running to the body he picked up the dropped knife, kicking Bailey's side twice as though he was a freshly shot deer, falling down from the blast but conserving energy to jump up and run again. Bailey did not jump up in run. He didn't even flinch. _He's played dead before Booth._ Staring a few moments longer he leaned down, checking the man's pulse. He was gone. He turned swiftly his attention now fully on his partner. He took in her condition fully for the first time since he stepped into her apartment. He had come to apologize for his behavior and heard a scream. She was topless and exposed, a light bruise from her kidnapping still rested between her breasts. Her entire neck was soaked and red, the glossy liquid thick. Taking her into his arms he felt the blood from her back seep into his shirt sleeves.

_Not again, Temperance, not again. _

A/N: Sooooooooo sorry to do this to Brennan. Hope you enjoyed and more is still to come. Best wishes!


	16. The iron lung that killed her soul

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are owned by Josephson Entertainment, Kathy Riechs, Far field productions and Fox.

They became more distant with the second, small thinning orbs of pale light fading into barely a glow. He watched them as though he were a ship, slowly floating away from the lights of shore, the lights of land and ground; of stability. Her eyes had opened when he had slipped his coat around her bare chest and picked her up, their life leaking out like water in cupped hands.

"Stay with me Bones, stay here Temperance. I'm here to help you. He's dead, really dead this time. Stay with me." Her eyes seemed to deepen in their sockets; the pale blue of their lid's beginning to sweep over the pale grey like a bed sheet.  
"No Bones!" he wanted to jolt her but he was afraid she might have a concussion. Unsure of what to do he called to her several more times. Finally he thrust his hand hard over the wound on her shoulder in attempt to wake her and stop the bleeding. The blow sent a shriek into the air. Her eyes flew open again the glow brighter than it had been moments ago.

"Booth? Booth it hurts…my neck hurts…why does my neck hurt?"

"You've been cut pretty badly Bones."

"I'm so tired." She dug her head into the crook of his chest and arm, sending a vibration of pain spiraling up her chest and neck.

"No Bones." He shook her as gently as possible. "You need to stay awake; if you have a concussion and you fall asleep you may never wake up."

"Mhmm." Her eyes tried to focus on him, suddenly the reason why she was in his arms coming back to her.

"You shot him?" her eye lids lolled up and down. He shook her again, more gently this time.

"Yes, I shot him Bones." His smile was sad but genuine.

She seemed out of it, like a sleepy child wobbling between sleep and waking, mumbling day dreams.

"Your coat is so warm Seeley." She smiled and everything faded into black.

"Temperance!" he yelled at the limp form that hung from his arms. "Shit!"

* * *

The lights had changed. They were too bright now…too white. The first blast of white burnt into her corneas like a hot stake. She immediately slammed the small slits of light into oblivion, sleep's warm touch coaxing her back into the depths of its bed. The next blast was longer and less intense. Colors seemed to mix into the white this time, blurs of green and blue one streak of red, and then pitch black again as she heard her name called from the darkness of unconsciousness. Third time's a charm. Her eyes shot open, taking in full blasts of color, then her name yet again, this time not from the darkness but from something warm that clung to her hand as an extended body. 

"Bones…Temperance…" her vision swirled as she attempted to bring the world around her into focus. Turning her head she felt a sharp ripple flow up her shoulder and into her neck, making the mucus at the back of her throat heat with nausea. She must have grimaced because a soft hand came to her cheek immediately. She relished in the warmth, in the feeling of something real. The hand quickly moved from her cheek to her hair line, brushing back strands gently.

"How do you feel Bones?" the voice boomed and her eyes finally focused on his sad green eyes, the look on his face tired but relieved.

"Like…as though…like I've beh…been hit with a ton of breacks…twice." She managed a weak smile. "That had rayz-er blade attachments." He thought he saw the smile broaden a bit. Her face suddenly paled.

"And nauseous…The uhh…the speaki-talking… pah… path-problem is is fffrom the cunkucion." She had trouble getting words out as she knew the cerebral cords of her brain were contracting and releasing from the blow to her head. It made her confuse words and pronunciation.

She could hear a door open and close in the distance, than much nearer clicking on tile. Coming into focus was her best friend, a look of relief in her eyes as well.

"Hey sweetie, we didn't think you'd ever wake up."

"Huh_…_hey Ange." Her friend's hand replaced her partners in a death grip on her fingers.

"How do you feel?"

"Like a ton of razor attachment-equipped bricks hit her twice." Booth answered for her, Brennan and him sharing a smile.

"Oh…" her friends eyebrows raised, a quirky smile crossing her lips. "You're probably going to be asked that a lot. Hodgins and Zack are coming by later."

A silence fell over the three of them.

"Look, Bren, I'm sorry I didn't stay with you last night, I knew you were wigged out. I should have hung around."

"Angela, no." she cleared her throat loudly, the sudden speak problem annoying the hell out of her. "Ha_…_how could either of us known? I..I…mean really. I'm glad you di_…_didn't stay, you cah…could have been hurt."

"But…"

"Ange," she squeezed her friends hand tighter, taking a deep breath and trying to straighten her thoughts. "You couldn't prevent it, I couldn't prevent it, Bah…Booth couldn't have. Nah…nah none of us could have. I should have checked his _pull…_pulse when I had the chance."

"Oh and about that Bones," she suddenly noticed his warm skin wasn't meeting her forehead and hair in the stroking motion anymore; he had dropped his hand to his lap.

"The blonde technician that 'helped' you was Bailey's daughter. Her boyfriend was a special effects make-up artist who did the guy's makeup. She had the perfect opportunity to lead you into it and her father knew it. We have her and her boyfriend under arrest for assistance in attempted murder."

Brennan attempted a nod of the head but stopped immediately. "I need pain medication…killers." She mumbled, reaching for the chart that hung just beyond her feet on the bed. Angela picked it up for her, handing it to her carefully. It slipped out almost immediately as Brennan's hands failed to close. She prayed she was the only one to notice. She was.

"Hmm… Tramadol… 100mg every fah…four ta ta to twelve hours…it should be having ma ma…more of an effect…" she flipped a page to find a chart of chicken scratch.

"Whahhht time is it?" she asked, booth looking at his watch.

"Three thirty-two Pm."

"No wonder." She let the clipboard slide from her arms and down onto her abdomen, closing her eyes. "I haven't, my last dose was…twelve hours ago." She stammered

"I just told a nurse that your awake, I'll go see if she's brining your doctor." Angela left the room as quickly as she had come in, knowing the two needed to talk.

Brennan awkwardly jumped onto the opportunity.

"Uh…Th..thank you Booth…Seeley." Her cheeks faded from pale to light pink, the 'O's in his name were drawn out.

"No Problem Bones."

"I would not, wouldn't be breeeathing right now if ya you wouldn't have come. I uh uh appreciate it."

Her mind flitted back to being in his arms, nearly naked and tired as hell. She wanted to control her voice right now so badly, she knew it made her seem weak but it was harder to do than it seemed.

Booth watched in silent for a moment as she battled with her own brain for power. He knew what the result would be…she was an extremely determined woman.

"Yea, but if I wouldn't have been such a prick at the club you wouldn't have been attacked at all."

"You don't know that." Her eyes closed and opened warily. "He could have wha…" she paused and closed her eyes again. "Waited until I got home. Who knows how long he had been waiting for me when I did get home."

"You got me on that one." He smiled. Damn she was stubborn.

"And if you wouldn't have been a pry…prick at the club, you wouldn't have come to uh apologize to me." She smiled as his eyes grew wide.

"I figured you would want to apologize for your behavior." Her speech was enarly back to normal.

"Am I that predictable Bones?"

She smiled. It looked different, almost broken to him. It seemed as though her bandages had just appeared as he stared at her. Her shoulder was bulky under the white-paper gown the bandage thick and taped to her skin. Another wrapped itself around her thin waist to conceal the wounds on her back. Angela suddenly reappeared with a tall African American man donning a crisp white lab coat and huge bifocal glasses. He had a smile that made the room seem like grandma's house. Extending his hand to her his voice was a deep baritone that was extremely comforting.

"Hello Temperance, I'm Dr. Graham. It's a pleasure to meet you. Are you feeling any better?"

She returned his hand shake with her left hand not wanting to disturb her right shoulder. "I could use more tra…Tramadol, but other than the...the...that I'm just sore…and tired."

"I'm surprised your head isn't pounding. You had a nasty hit that caused a grade two concussion with systematic loss of consciousness. There's a good chance you're going to become very nauseous in the first few hours of full consciousness, so I'll have your nurse bring, for lack of a better term, a barf bucket."

Both Booth and Angela cringed simultaneously.

"Its ok gah guys, its normal for that to oh oh occur after this type of cun cun concussion." she assured, her eyes meeting the doctor's once again. "You sah said grade two? Doesn't that imply conffffusion or post-traumatic amneeesia to a certain extent?"

"It does indeed."

"I can remember ehv…all that…everything that happened…and so fah…thus…so…far I've had no outbursts."

"I suppose it all depends on point of impact, which in your case was your right upper cranium, which would have been your frontal lobe, which, at times, may cause memory loss. However I've noticed you've had very little movement in your right hand and your speech has obviously been affected…I'm sure you know why that's occurring, and why it's a good thing. In fact you're extremely lucky you haven't come out of this with any sort of amnesia. Its highly common in instances like this."

"I'm gah going to assume you need to pre….form some uhhh tah tests?" she enquired, wishing she was sitting up more so than she was at the moment. He nodded his head in a smooth, liquid motion. She mirrored him in response.

"Ok Temperance, I'm going to need you to grip my fingers with yours as hard as you can ok?"

She nodded her head as he slipped her hands into his own. They looked small and fragile against his thick, dark fingers. She pulled hard against him. He looked from hand to hand, her gaze following his. Her left hand smashed his first and middle fingers in her own, but her right lay nearly limp against the pads of his left.

"Thank you." He let her hands slide to her sides. "Can you feel anything in your right hand? Any tingling or burning?" he asked, removing the chart from the end of her bed and jotting something down.

She stared at the hand blankly. She hadn't really thought about it until now. Concentrating she felt nothing. It was as though her right arm and hand did not exist.

"Uhmm…No….I...I...Theres nothing…I feel like theh there's nothing there." Thoughts burst into her mind like fireworks. She remembered Bailey's blade against her collar bone. Oh no.

She looked to her shoulder suddenly, her left hand moving in one swift motion to remove her bandage. She pulled it off painfully, ripping scabbing flesh in the process. A long line of stitches ran from her neck to the outer edge of her shoulder. Booth flew from his seat and tensed, ready to stop her.

"He..he..cah cah cut through mah my ma ma…ma muscles…" her fingers ran slowly along the edge of the long stitched wound. Both Booth an Angela cringed.

"But they repaired them Bones, it was the point of the surgery."

"My upper pectoral and lower Trapezuis…" she looked from the wound to the doctor, ignoring Booth.

"Is the luh…lack uhv movement ffffrom the disconextion of the muh muh muscle…or the cun...cuhhhtion?" The speaking pattern began to worsen as a rock formed in the pit of her stomach.

"We're not sure Ms. Brennan." The use of her last name made the rock grow to several times its size.

"It hazz to beeee fra from the concussion."

She stared down at it, forgetting everyone else in the room. She willed the damned appendages to move, wanted the digits to wiggle, the phalanges to round in the smooth sockets of their joints. Her eyes scanned from the unmoving fingers to her shoulder, suddenly feeling weak before all of these people. She was ashamed to be so put out and injured in front of Booth and Angela. She didn't want to be there. She hated her existence all together. She noticed no twitching or muscular movement in her right arm. If the muscles had been incorrectly attached there would have been solitary muscular movement above the stitched area.

"It's the concussion." She nearly sighed in relief.

"We don't know that Ms. Brennan."

"Doctor. Dr. Brennan. And yes. We do." She gave him a glare that would have made a pit-bull wet its fur. She felt bad for doing it, he seemed like a courteous, kind doctor but she didn't feel like dealing with this at the moment.

"You can leave now, I'm sure you can tell I'm awake and not in a coma." Her friends stood, mouths agape with her outburst.

"Of course Dr. Brennan. Your nurse will be in in a moment to re-bandage your wound." He turned to Booth and Angela. "May I see you two for a moment?"

They both nodded solemnly.

"We'll be back in a minute sweetie." Angela called to her friend as they exited.

Temperance sat silently, her shoulder suddenly burning down into her arm, making it feel as though the appendage had just recently appeared. She could hear mumbled "Okays" and explanations from outside of the door. She knew the doctor was explaining her condition and her outburst. _No, she couldn't be held accountable for harsh behavior or exchanges; it was due to the concussion. She might even forget something she had said to either of them entirely._ _Yes she could be fine in a few days. Yes, he doubted the movement problem was from the muscle detachment. No she would not be able to leave the hospital in less that a week._

Defeated, she sat up completely, a wave a nausea boiling up into her throat. Clenching her teeth she finally let the tears fall, thick drops rolling down her cheeks in heavy sheets of sheen. Her back burned with the jump of her sobs as she finally took a breath with out someone watching. Her hands dripped with the clear, salty liquid that contained her fears and doubts, her depression and joy. No one could imagine what shefelt right now, not Special Agent Seeley Booth, nother best friend, the artist, Angela Montenegreo, Not even the son of a bitch Dr. Benjamin Bailey. **She** didnt even know how she felt. All she knew were the tears. She knew the comfort of the glistening drops; Sweet release. She could finally Breath.

Finally let go.

A/N: is this the end?


	17. A slow recovery in fast arms

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters…they are owned by Far Field Productions, Kathy Riechs, Josephson Entertainment and Fox.

Small and child-like, wrapped in a ball tight enough to make her look like an embryo he found her as he walked silently back into her room. The only movement that came from her huddled form was a slight shaking that ran through her back and right arm. He noticed her hands wrapped down around her calves as her knees were pulled to her sore chest. She looked up at him, eyes wide and teary, the liquid blending with the nearly clear grey of her eyes as the drops swelled and fell. He had no idea what to do. He had never seen her this way before, she was always so strong and independent, unbroken, a shield of strength, but now…now the shield had been torn down and smashed. His gaze fell back onto her hands, her knuckles white against a pale, bruised leg and a yellow cast.

"Your hands working," was all he could muster. A small cry escaped her lips as she nodded managing a slight, bashful smile, embarrassed of the tears that streamed down her face. Walking to the bed he planted a hip beside her on the pristine white sheets, looking at her, her gaze not meeting his. He had come in because he didn't want to have to hear what the Doctor was telling Angela.

He didn't want to know about mood swings that would occur, he didn't want to know that she may have nerve ending problems in her fingers from the wound, he didn't want to know that she would be weak for so long because of blood loss. He wanted to know that she was breathing, wanted to know she was there for him to hold, to touch and kiss, he wanted to know that her now fragile heart and mind were still working. Taking her right hand in his he watched as her fingers curled in between his. He raised the back of it to his lips, kissing the tender skin gently and smiling at her.

Her heart skipped a beat as her liquid gaze caught his.

"You'll be back in the lab in no time." He smiled, her hand staying enveloped in his.

"I know." She took her hand from his awkwardly and rubbed her eyes gently, then lacing her wet fingers through his once more, sighed.

"I hate crying."

"I hate seeing you cry." His thumb moved gently over her tear stained hand, rubbing tiny circles into the skin. She was beginning to unfold when a sudden jolt of pain his her right shoulder, sending her arm into quivers in his hand.

"Bones?"

She bit down on her lower lip hard; her teeth fitting like puzzle pieces into the scar on the inner side of her lip. Sucking in air through her teeth she clenched her eyes shut.

"I'm ok…I need some more Tramadol. Damnit" she sucked in again opening her eyes this time, her hand subconsciously rubbing at the wound on her shoulder, starting droplets of deep red slipping from the stitches.

Leaning over her he set a spark off in both of their chests as their skin brushed lightly, his hand reached out towards a box of tissues next to her bed. Gripping the light paper in his hands he sat up straight, wishing their skin could have brushed but only a moment longer, and proceeded to wipe away the spilling droplets. He could feel her cringe as he rubbed a small stitch her soft skin gliding over his as her hand led his across her skin.

"If you uh…rub to hard…you'll rip a stitch." It sounded ridiculous out loud to her ears, the sudden awkwardness sending her into a slight fit of chuckling, the first he'd seen since the first kidnapping. Turning his hand from the wound he held her hand in his, each of their ten fingers interlocked as each of their hands occupied the other's. Letting go of her left he tilted her chin up, their gazes meeting as he leaned foreword, his hand moving to hoist her neck as he planted a soft kiss first on her forehead, then her cheekbone, moving down to her lips to be met with her sweet response. Letting go of her hands he held her against his chest tight, though conscious of her wounds, his cheek pressed against her temple in the embrace.

"God I'm glad you're safe Bones." He kissed her temple as a mother would a child. The action made Temperance think of Parker.

She pulled back from him, looking him dead in the eye, her pain fading into the recesses of her mind as she looked into a look of passion and love. She was safe with this man, this knight of sorts; he would protect and love her.

He watched as her eyes brightened and a smile spread slowly over her lips. Nearly lunging at him she ended up stretched foreword from her seating position, her arms wrapped around his neck, their lips meeting in a passionate embrace. Pulling her face back from his she smiled, her eyes nearly crossed in their proximity.

"I love you Special Agent Seeley Booth."

"I know you do Bones…I know you do." His smiled broadened as he pulled her into another kiss, this one more passionate and loving.

Outside of the bright white room Angela Montenegro peered in through the tiny slit of a window in the door. Smiling she turned from the lover's confessions, leaning against a wall, arms crossed over her chest. _Nothing like tragedy to draw together the love of two souls_. Smiling to herself she left the hospital content, knowing only love and strength could flourish in the midst of horror, that two souls could be drawn together as mates through moments of destruction and terror. Things were going to change…

_For the better…for love_

A/n: I think this is the end. I'm content with it and I hope you are too! Thanks for sticking with it for so long! Best wishes, Quite Silent.


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